


Pretty When You Cry

by ajattra



Category: Ginger Snaps (2000 2004)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Bitchy! Ginger, Dubious Consent, F/M, Horror, Psychopatic Werewolf Pack, Romance, Teen Romance, Verbal Abuse, Violence, bad language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-09-21
Updated: 2011-09-21
Packaged: 2017-10-23 22:28:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 14
Words: 40,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/255737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ajattra/pseuds/ajattra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Post GS1] Jason survived to save Ginger from damnation. Now they have to build trust in order to become a true pack. But doubt lingers, even as they survive horrible hardships.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Baby's First Coffin

**Author's Note:**

> Her faith was wounded and so was her body. If she were to die here, it wouldn't matter that the faith was gone; that the bond had been severed in the most violent way possible. If she died it would almost be like fulfilling that childhood promise they'd made, hands together as one. Out by sixteen or dead in the scene. Oh sweet fucking irony.

Then again if she were to live then it'd be a whole other story…

Her almost-chuckle became a grimace and a painful gasp followed it quickly. It'd been hours since she'd been sober enough to get up and drag herself away from her own murder scene: Up the stairs, out of the back door, through that crack in the neighbour's fence and then the woods. There'd been barely any thought left behind her actions then. A primal instinct had guided her rather than a well crafted plan. Stay in the dark, avoid the light, avoid the people – Such precautions were almost programmed to her spine. So she'd dragged herself forwards, let the rough ground scrape off skin and drain her strength while the survival instinct had slowly helped her through the horror and doom.

She'd stopped upon reaching a tree in the distance, a roof of leaves covering her from the gray rain above and her grotesque form keeping her safe for the time being. Just breathe, live for another thirty seconds, then another and another and slowly pull through this. Only some unspoken desire had slowly dissolved her form. Hair had fallen, the tail shrunk, her paws regained the original shape and everything else had eventually fallen into place as well leaving her defenceless and weak.

So there she lay on the ground naked and shivering, unable to move or protect herself should the need arise. Her hair was gone, her head bald and sharp. There was a fucking hole in her mid-section and it kept pouring out everything. She leaked sense, blood, and courage onto the ground. She looked so pathetic while wearing this dirty skin, and a beaten expression. She'd tried eating while still a bit stronger. The things she'd craved before were like poison when she tried to swallow raw meat, or entrails. They came up as quick as when she'd first tried consuming them. There wasn't a trace of the beast in her now; it was dormant and sated for awhile. It'd left behind a human that barely stood a chance at survival.

Ginger didn't know if survival was even an option. Moving around hurt more than anything, smeared her eyes in tainted tears and helped achieve nothing. She'd already lain here for days, albeit protected by her werewolf physique at first. She wouldn't hold on for much longer and she knew it. This meant that her sister would get away with murder, live through it to see another day. It had to be punishment enough, because if it wasn't how could she lay here and even consider dying? No, it had to be punishment enough.

She resisted the pain enough to pull her legs against her stomach. It was so fucking cold here.

There was a sudden change in the air; a new scent appeared and overwhelmed her enhanced senses quickly. Her breathing became more rapid, her muscles prepared for anything and her brain prepared for handling the pain that would follow from such movement. As the scent grew stronger she started hearing steps against the soft ground. The noises around her, which were already almost non-existent, became quieter and stopped entirely. Ginger leaned against the tree trunk she hid behind and tried to remain motionless to avoid detection. She was too weak to fight.

"Ginger? I know you're there." A familiar voice from the past called to her, making the world colourless just like that.

It wasn't quite nostalgia, or happiness to know he was there but she couldn't help feeling somewhat relived. Relieved to know that the loser she'd had a one night fling with was standing there, looking for her. The absurdity of the situation was almost too much. To feel this way about him and not B was sickening. Ginger leaned her head back to see the sky above, stare at the lack of sun on that grey surface. Was there no end to the absurdity of life?

Muffled steps against the soft underbrush of the forest approached her and the stabbing scent that'd already reached her nostrils became more unbearable the louder the noise got. His face appeared into view soon after, smirking mischievously when she flinched at his sudden appearance. His hair was wet and imprinted against his forehead. He was recognizable though, despite the rather obvious changes. At least he still had his clothes on, she thought, letting her gaze drop from his face and onto his body. He stood there next to her equally his eyes scanning her poor condition. "I could smell you from miles away," he said before squatting down so that their faces were on the same level and he needn't look down to talk to her.

"I've heard such crazy things about you two," he continued, ecstatic and amused by their killing spree. His voice was weak with lust and enjoyment as if just thinking about their deeds made him aroused. It hadn't been that amusing to B, now had it?

Ginger looked away. Staring at him made her miss her own appearance. She was ugly now, a broken body of dirty skin and torn tissue. His hand touched her cheek, bloodied fingers trailing down it. "Why'd you exclude me on all the fun?" The gesture was almost gentle, as if what they'd shared had brought them closer to one another instead of just being a conquest or a distraction. She shivered at his touch but couldn't force cruel words out of her mouth. The pain was so numbing that she had trouble focusing on anything else.

Jason noticed how she didn't respond to his gesture or words. Ginger looked so beaten with the blood red having pooled all over her stomach. Her hair was gone and so were the determination and the fuck-off attitude he'd had to fight for so long in the past. She'd killed a lot of people before vanishing though, so she'd probably enjoyed it. Hell, by the sound of everything he'd heard in the past few days Jason was positive that Ginger had enjoyed the slaughter fully.

The mess she'd left behind was a whole other deal though. Brigitte, that freak of a sister of hers had vanished as well, leaving their parents behind confused. Trina Sinclair had been dug up from their backyard. The guidance counsellor and the cleaner at school were mutilated. Sam was dead in their basement, and it rather puzzled Jason seeing as Sam wasn't that close to either sister, or at least shouldn't have been. No one would know now, not after their house had gone out in flames.

He noticed her shiver again and removed his jacket, wrapping it around her silently. She didn't resist, or say thank you, just sat there. Ginger noticed his jacket had bloodstains and the revelation stirred her doubts, invoked questions. Did he have a body count of his own now? She'd never thought he was the kind of guy to have such pent-up anger inside, seeing as he was a lot calmer than she'd been at that stage. Who'd have thought that about the wuss?

"What do you want?" She finally asked him, eyeing her saviour suspiciously while she pulled the jacket on tighter and tried to keep her distance from him. Being closer to him would probably be a warmer solution but for some reason his all too convenient appearance made her rather timid. After all, she was the one who was seemingly without her werewolf strength, wounded and naked in the middle of nowhere. He had the upper hand here.

"I'm getting close now. A few hours tops," he explained, wondering if it'd been the missing girl whose hand had stabbed Ginger. "You didn't answer my question," she growled, showing a little of that lovely aggression of hers. He found himself smiling at that. She'd be back to normal eventually, he thought, somewhat relieved. "We're a pack," Jason explained, saying it as if he actually believed in it.

"No we're not." She was quick to deny his words, their meaning.

"Yes we are." Jason repeated his claim with a more serious voice this time. Why was he so cocky, why wasn't he jerking off as usual? He should've been chasing off all those girls that'd stood him up in the past, laying them to piles of corpses. He shouldn't have been here with her because in reality they'd shared nothing. "You made me Ginge." He was convinced that it'd actually meant something. Now what the fuck was up with that nickname? Ginge? Ugh, she'd liked it better when he'd called her Fitz and vanished from her life right after they'd had sex.

"We're no fucking pack. You just wanted to get laid." Cranky, she was getting extremely cranky. He wasn't supposed to start thinking for himself with that worm brain of his. He wasn't supposed to find her and play her knight in shining armour. Not when it'd been Brigitte that'd stabbed her! Why was everything suddenly upside down! Was it some kind of cruel mockery?

Jason grabbed her weak shoulder before she had the chance to react, yanked her quickly towards him and locked his arms around her sobbing being that was once again moaning in pain. "Really Fitz?" he whispered in her ear, his voice low and suggesting. It brought forth a memory of them together: how it'd felt to lie on him, skin on skin. Those sensations were faulty, even she knew that. He was a jerk who'd only felt good when she'd been in heat, entwined with him.

She grimaced when he slid his hand over her armpit and made it slide down her naked front, all the way to the hole in her stomach. "Jason," she gasped, as he touched the wound, while still efficiently restraining her with his other arm. She was cold but he wasn't warm either. His hand was lukewarm against her skin. "Shhh," he simply shushed her quiet again. Then he noticed the scars on her shoulder and focused his attention on them instead. He ran his fingers over them and felt the difference between the rough scar and her soft skin. She'd been near ravished, clawed and dragged around. He'd been changed in a much more pleasant way. His eyes ran over her stomach again and came to a conclusion.

"She fucked you up pretty good."

So he knew about Brigitte. Ginger didn't know whether she wanted him to know or not. "Keep your fucking hands to yourself McCardy," she hissed but was still in no condition to writhe or complain further. He knew this, she knew this. Appearances were the only thing she still had, so he'd let her keep them. He wasn't monstrous after all; he wasn't cruel like she was.

"If I leave you here, you'll die. Alone." Jason was beginning to get bored with their game. Her words were always so spiteful, like no one could understand her or have anything to say that was worthy of her attention. Still he felt affinity towards her; she was after all his maker, whether she'd done it on purpose or not. Not to mention they were alike. His senses had urged him to find her, not Brigitte. He could've infected someone else to keep him company, but the thought hadn't even occurred to him after he'd begun understanding things. He knew he could work out an arrangement with her somehow; get her co-operative, less bitchy maybe. Now that she was wounded it was his chance to prove to her he was worth having around.

"And if you don't?" Ginger lacked decisiveness and wasn't happy to find out what he had to suggest. He'd tell her anyway. "You and me, Ginge. Together." He put it as simply as possible.

She didn't downright loathe the idea, she just hated it. Unbeknownst to her, their minds were trailing on the same path though. Both wanted a pack, companionship, a partner. She'd wanted to share this with Brigitte, have her experience the same satisfaction, pleasure. Now it seemed that honour would befall on that lame motherfucker. But she'd live. She'd live to make her betrayer pay. She'd live even when they'd done everything to kill her. She'd beat the odds.

As if to enforce his words Jason brought his lips to her neck, pecking her delicate flesh carefully. He'd look after her and she'd heal and then she could extract her revenge. If all he wanted from her was intimacy she could do it. She'd done it before, drowned all excuses with the jolt that came with being close to another person. He wasn't smart, she could barely stand talking to him but she could withstand him for the goal.

"I'm cold," she finally answered with a raspy, vulnerable voice. Jason smiled against her, complacent. "Maybe we should get you something to wear then."

TBC


	2. Temptation Waits

She was still pale, weak and almost completely human. Jason didn't know what that meant. Her transformation had been complete hadn't it? She'd turned into a creature instead of a girl, even attacked her own sister who she'd been hell bent on turning into one of them. After everything she'd done all it'd needed had been a simple stab wound in her gut and she'd reverted back eventually. It was insane. If this thing worked you inside out how was it possible for a body to turn normal again, digest human food again?

It had to be a cycle of some sorts: A vicious circle that repeated itself over and over again.

He was certainly holding out longer than she was, since he was supposed to be close to the metamorphosis, he could feel it and all, and yet he remained human. Then a memory of a certain event crossed his mind, bringing about a realization. Brigitte had stabbed him with a syringe, hadn't she? Whatever had been inside of it, he'd calmed down immediately and the bloodlust had vanished. Was that why he hadn't changed yet because he couldn't think of any other reason? Then again if it was that it had to mean there was a cure.

Jason glanced at Ginger's sleeping form again and quickly refused the thought. He didn't wanna go back, not when all of this, after the initial shock of course, had turned out to be such a joyride. He felt powerful now, had the strength to bend anyone under his control, even a wayward bitch like Ginger. Hell, even after he'd dragged her to a warm, safe place, listened to all of her bitchy comments and whining, and gotten her clothes and bandaged her wound she hadn't said a word of gratitude. She'd just thrown the nearest object at him and gone to sleep. Normally he would've thought of a dozen ways from violence to sweet coaxing to remove that edginess but this really wasn't a normal situation now was it?

He'd surprised even himself with his tolerance for her antics. She certainly wasn't a prize to be won even if she did make his skin crawl unlike anyone else before. You could barely stand being in the same room with her if she wasn't shoving her tongue down your throat. One look at her self-absorbed glare made you hard and irritated at the same time. Every smile of hers was a mocking one like she'd felt happiness that didn't come from breaking down others. Still she had rocked his world, changed everything for good. It wouldn't have been right to leave her there alone, afraid. He'd noticed she didn't like being alone. Anyone would do to fill the empty space but she still kept her distance from whoever it was beside her.

Right before going to bed she'd mumbled something about B, Brigitte. The little sister really had stabbed her, hadn't she? And Ginger was pissed, Jason had felt it in her every laboured step while they'd been walking her out of the woods and the girl had shook in anger in his arms. They'd been close, those two. Brigitte had supported Ginger and then left her incomplete, confused. He could relate to that, he'd been abandoned to this madness as well, just as he'd thought things were looking up. He'd wanted to find the one responsible just as bad and make things better again. Unlike Ginger he'd succeeded.

He felt dirty, exhausted. There were bloodstains on his face from the girl he'd killed to get Ginger clothes. He longed to get out of his clothes and just relax. One glance at the bathroom door made him hit the shower after throwing his shirt over his head. The door finally brought some needed distance between himself and the Sleeping Beauty on the bed.

The bathroom was small, barely big enough for one. He didn't mind; it gave him some comfort, the crowdedness of it all. His eyes had begun to turn by now; they'd taken a more canine look. It made his face look vicious, alien. His hair remained brown though, it hadn't bleached like hers had. Then he checked his nails and couldn't help frowning as he had grown real bitch nails.

The water helped the voice of his muddled reason shut up for awhile. It ran down his shoulders, cleansed the red everywhere. It didn't need to cleanse his conscience though, not anymore. Not when killing was fulfilling the desire that tore his thoughts apart otherwise. Now everything was static, no thought climbed above the rest and he was at peace. The warm water felt comfortable.

He eventually climbed out of the small room, a modest towel wrapped around his waist in case the sleeping beauty would be awake. 'Good thinking', he complimented himself upon realizing that Ginger's eyes weren't closed anymore but stared at the wall blankly while she rested on her side. He wasn't as smart when he decided to approach her and sit on the bed's edge. "Feeling any better?" Jason asked, one eye already gleaming wolfish yellow while the other was clearly bloodshot.

Ginger glanced at him from her eye corner, somewhat uncomfortable with his changed appearance. She gathered herself quickly though and moved onto her back as discreetly as possible so she wouldn't disturb the slowly healing wound. "You look at ugly as ever McCardy," she muttered in annoyance, vexed that he'd found enough spine to disturb her.

Jason didn't look very comfortable anymore, simply leaned closer and moved one arm over her body to the other side of the bed for support. "You should've seen yourself Fitz," he responded coldly.

There it was again, that weird sensation she had around him. Like he was a wolf in a boy's disguise and she was the little girl asking why his eyes were so big. It made her want to press her back against the mattress to make herself as flat as possible, as far from his reach as she could. It was stupid, childish even. Why should she be afraid of him, be forced to play home with him just because… Fuck it, he had helped her out and all he'd asked was for a little kindness in return – nothing else.

"Thanks for the-," she stopped as her eyes wandered across his bare chest. "Help?" He suggested, tilting his head and observing her thoughtfully again. "It's cool. I named my terms."

Oh, she wanted to stand up and rip his throat out right now. She wanted to punch him so hard, but her reason prevailed. Jason was in a much stronger state right now. She wasn't even regenerating yet. He could've easily punched his fist through her stomach and left her to bleed to death. The question was would he be capable of such? Ginger hadn't honestly thought she could do it either. He might've not looked much but she'd seen him attack that girl on their way back here. He was strong and quick; she'd been dead in minutes after he'd slammed her on the asphalt. He hadn't even looked bothered afterwards. So yeah, she thought he could do it. He would just find some other playmate for his werewolf pack fantasy afterwards.

And now he looked at her like he could read thoughts, like he was responding to them edgily: Nag all you want, but if you attack me you're dead. She'd surely picked a bad apple, hadn't she? He just had to develop some icky possessive attitude when he could've swung around all he wanted. If this wasn't Hell she just didn't know what was.

It was time to redefine Jason McCardy, Ginger decided. The definition of a sex-crazed slacker ape couldn't apply to him anymore. Not when he had so beautifully orchestrated the continuation of their relationship… if you could call this, or the one-night stand they'd had a relationship. Would the words horny and powerful motherfucker be enough? She saw him smile at her just enough to reveal his fangs. "Whatever it is you're thinking, Ginge, let it go," he ordered her just as he got up and walked towards the pile his clothes were in.

Ginger was relieved to be breathing freely again. She couldn't believe that wuss was holding her here practically against her will. And yet somehow she didn't feel threatened at all, considering she did know where they stood. If she just controlled her sweet temper a bit Jason would play nice. He wouldn't be straddling her anytime soon and smirking about their roles being switched. No, he wasn't completely rotten; he was actually rather considerate when it came to her injury. Guess you should be glad for small favours… like an open view to him changing. She couldn't help smiling when she thought about all the places she'd hurt him in during their little encounter in his car as her gaze ran across his naked form.

After he'd pulled his jeans on and showed signs of turning around she moved her eyes to a more suitable object discreetly, ending up staring at the clock – how convenient. Now that she really focused on a bored look her disguise was perfect. Damn these lycanthrope mating instincts for making him seem okay again, tempting her to reach out. She didn't like it, and wasn't gonna like it in the future either.

He felt heavier inside every passing minute, knew he was approaching his limit yet remained calm about it. He wouldn't be here when that happened, couldn't stay with her in the same room, because it was getting torturous. The water had blocked her scent for awhile but now it was getting wild, urging him to do things, to do her. There was something about it, something alluring and crazy. It erased the reason behind his thoughts, erased entire sentences that tried to explain she didn't want any of it right now, that she was injured for Christ's sake. A part of him thought the stench of blood was kinda lovely on her too.

Jason had to get out; he didn't have much time before he'd lose his sanity over her. He gathered himself quickly and turned to face to face her again, finding her eyes wandering quite somewhere else than where he'd sensed their glare a moment ago. Ginger looked contemplative again, like she was thinking furiously and would jump at the slightest noise. She'd never get out of that bed if this kept going, Jason thought while pulling his shirt on. He ran his fingers through his wet hair and rubbed his scalp a bit to get the heavy locks dry.

That morose face would probably never go away: never melt into something more compassionate. But he was okay with that. He'd deal, because he kinda liked it that way. Finally he pulled on his coat as well and moved closer to her again, instantly getting her hostile eyes all over him. "I'll be going now," he said, dropping brown wallet on the night table next to her surprised face. He then opened the drawer and put inside what he had left of the bandages he'd bought to patch her up.

"Where the fuck are you going?" she asked, catty in her approach to the subject, however fully paying attention to where he was putting everything in case she'd need any of them.

"I'm sorry," Jason taunted, "did you want me to transform in here with you?"

His calmness caught her completely off-guard. Why was he this collected? Shouldn't he be stark raving mad by now? Like jumping all over her because she was the right sex? When she was unable to respond though, he just frowned and turned around without as much as a goodbye gesture. "The room is paid for a few days. There's some food in the plastic bag by my bed. I'll be back in a few days."

He didn't get a chance to leave just yet though, as she wrenched herself up from the bed, grasping his sleeve to keep him from leaving. Jason couldn't help being shocked when his eyes met with her pain-engulfed face. "And if you don't?" She asked, almost worried but unwavering in her emerging anger. Life for these past hours had been pretty simple; he provided, she consumed. She could get used to living like this – that is if he came back after morphing into a bloodthirsty lycanthrope that barely had any memory of anything. What if he got hit by a car? Or some stupid hillbilly got too trigger happy?

She was almost adorable in her worry. Her teeth were clenched shut, and her other hand was wrapped protectively around her stomach that was once again bleeding as the bloody stench told him. His poor baby had injured herself in the process of trying to stop him. His usually sweet smirk was unusually creepy when he took her by the nape of her neck and brought their lips together for one steamy kiss.

"Don't worry honey. I'll be home by dinner time," he simply gave it a laugh before he strode to the door. She stared after him with annoyed blood thirst written all over her face. That kiss had been revolting. His breathe stank of a dog and his fangs had crazed her lip when they'd pulled apart, leaving her mouth full of blood. Damn that McCardy!

Jason couldn't help leaning against the door outside. He'd pierced his own lip in attempt to quench the hunger after he'd pulled away. Being so close, smelling both the blood and that unique Ginger scent could've really fucked him up there, or more like made him fuck her. He savoured the thought, her taste. After he was back she was bound to start regenerating soon, grow her hair back, and fix that hole in her stomach. Then it'd be the time to get it on. Now he'd just have to settle for that preview.

He smelled cold outside air, something immediately catching his senses. His blood-shot eye was on fire too, fighting this as much as it could. He was lost the same second he realized there was a camping are near-by. A cute little family on vacation was just what he needed right now.

TBC


	3. Destination Unknown

There was a loud knock on the door, an almost violent one. It awoke her immediately, made her search for a clock, then suddenly remember she wasn't at home, trying to sleep in late and evade school, but in a cheap motel room with half her body wrapped in white bandage. Ginger pulled herself up carefully, slid on the dead girl's jeans and walked to the door barefoot. It got knocked on again before she made her way to it and yanked it open, prepared to give the motherfucker the lecture of his life, because seriously chips and some coke were not food. Only she wasn't facing a naked and very embarrassed Jason behind the door as she'd hoped, but a completely unknown person.

Her eyes grew cold and bitchy quickly and she snorted at the stranger impolitely, "What the fuck?"

The man had at first given her bald head a look of disapproval but now he was as blank as a board. "Your boyfriend rented the room for four days. Time's up," he said, sounding pretty eager to get rid of her when he finally regained his speech. Ginger was already cursing her fucked up luck in her head for being forced to submit to yet another unexpected situation in such short notice. "Give me ten?" She asked, getting a nod as an approval. With that the manager just turned around got going. She slammed the door shut after him and looked around the room more than irritated.

Where was that son of a bitch? He was supposed to return by now. Hell, she hadn't spent three days in her lycan form, she'd barely held onto it for two days. How stupid did you have to be to fuck up such an easy thing? Just revert, return, and get all these piling problems off her fucking shoulders! He was supposed to deal with everything! Ginger hit the wall beside her without thinking and hurt her fist to the point of the friction scraping off skin in the process. Fuck, everything was going wrong again!

Sure, her regeneration was starting to kick in because she could move again and not instantly reopen the wound, but she wasn't anywhere near the point where she had more strength than your average 16-year-old. She was too vulnerable without him right now, had no means to support herself until her metabolism started getting fast again. She barely had any hair on her head right now! She looked like a freak, felt like she was a freak. If Jason went haywire and got himself killed didn't that mean she was alone? That she had no one to turn to for this shit? It frustrated her near tears.

However the truth was she only had ten minutes to pack everything up and get the hell away from this place. Ginger started acting immediately, gathered everything Jason had brought in into a neat pile. He'd bought her a black cap somewhere, saying that she could wear it and hide her baldness that way. Considerate and she hadn't even given a fuck then. She pulled the cap on now, then her overcoat and socks and shoes. Gladly there wasn't much to carry, because she didn't want to haul a lot of crap when she didn't even know where she was going. She just took the wallet from the table and dumped everything else into the trashcan.

It didn't take her long to get outside and stop by the main building to return the key. She exchanged an annoyed look with the clerk and asked if there was a place to eat around here. He pointed her towards the direction of the small diner next door. "There's a shop too if you need something else," he said, seemingly focused on the book he was holding.

"You have shops in the middle of nowhere?" Ginger asked, getting a very solemn answer that explained to her there were a lot of campers in the area and that they kept the business going. She walked out without thanking and headed out to the diner as her stomach was beginning to ache from hunger.

She'd basically stayed in doors, watching TV for the three days she'd been waiting for Jason's return. Her regenerative powers had seemed to kick in yesterday so the wound wasn't even bleeding anymore; albeit still painful enough for her to knock out its effects with the painkillers he'd provided her with. The diner was empty, smelled of burned French fries and had one bored looking waiter sitting behind the counter. She was looking at the TV, nonchalant and unmoved by the events of the series she was apparently watching.

Ginger strode to her, looked through the list of food and ordered the first thing that sounded okay enough to eat. The waitress barely flinched when she said the price while still looking at the general direction of the TV. She probably had the whole list memorized, Ginger thought while passing her the money. With the cling of the cash register and the change hitting the table, the waitresses' eyes were upon the TV again. Ginger took the change quietly and sat next to the window then, pulling the coat off her shoulders.

The place looked different in daylight. Least in the dark it'd had that shifty motel charm. Now it was just some place people stopped by to go hiking. Now that was a family activity she'd sworn she'd never try again: camping. That one time with Pamela complaining about the wildlife and Henry trying to make fire for hours, while she and B sat in their tent reading horror novels had been enough.

It was then that it really struck her. She had no idea how far she'd gotten while injured. She had no idea if they… she was even in Bailey Downs anymore. She could be anywhere, alone, near-broke and without a single clue where the only two familiar faces she even wanted to see right now were. God damnit McCardy, he'd really gotten her into a mess, hadn't he?

Okay think Ginger, think. Ginger let her eyes wander all around the cheap looking motel. There was no clue here as to where she was and if she asked that stupid clerk he'd probably think she was junkie and report her to the police. Think, think. She looked outside again, trying to find a signpost or a phone booth or something. Nothing, the place looked deserted, like it was just a random motel at the side of the road where all the family men dragged their hookers to when they had a minute to spare from work and their families.

For once her cynical view on the world was not comforting. It quite clearly supported the cruel belief that Jason the ass had gotten himself killed somehow. It only served him right naturally but left her in a rather uncomfortable pinch. Where was that fucking brat when you needed him? A moment after a police car ran by. She frowned at it, continuing to contemplate her little problem. A moment later another police car ran past the motel and then yet another one.

Great – Were they having a police gathering near here, or what? Suddenly it became clear to her though. Jason's metamorphosis had been approaching its finale, hadn't it? Then wouldn't he be looking for something to tear apart perhaps? Devouring guts and entrails? Hunting for prey? And another police car turned Ginger's sour look into a smile. She could learn to appreciate his predictability.

She marched back to the counter, put on her most empty-headed look and approached the waitress. "Why are there so many police cars passing by?" She asked, batting her eyelashes a bit. The waitress seemed to find her question more interesting than the soap reruns she'd been watching so far so she turned to Ginger, asking, "You don't know?" She seemed genuinely surprised. Ginger shook her head.

"There's a camping area near-by. A family was found dead there yesterday, all in terrible shape, practically in pieces. It's been all over the news," the waitress told her. Ginger wanted to smile, let her see a big fat smile on account of this horrible deed. She didn't smile though, just pretended to be shaken by the news and asked just how close the camping area was. The waitress gave her pretty solid instructions and as it turned out, it wasn't all that far from here.

Ginger went back to her spot, more than satisfied with her amazing skills of deduction. Seriously, there was no limit to Jason's stupidity, was there? Ginger could outwit the idiot any day, and in time she'd beat him in his own game. Pack her ass, she'd use him as long as he was useful to her and then hang him to dry. And she'd enjoy every fucking second of it. The thought made her patient enough to wait for her meal and finish it before she headed outside again, this time more than sure that she could still find Jason.

Ginger pulled on the hood of the coat when she began striding along the road. She blocked everything else out efficiently; forgot all about the irritation in her scalp that indicated her hair was growing: the pain that her wound was radiating all around when she pushed herself too far: the cars passing by. Just the goal remained dominant in her thoughts; find Jason, beat Jason into submission, find B, fuck B up. She repeated it like a mantra, reciting it silently like a woman obsessed.

By the time the camp site appeared in sight she was already surrounded by people again. The police had sealed off the premise rather efficiently, leaving the crowd consisting of civilians and the press on the verges of the entrance. There were flowers and candles all around, arranged into neat little piles here and there. Ginger felt the desire to knock them down clutch her insides when she was passing such a spot for the first time but considered it too startling since there were too many witnesses. Besides she had other business here: she needed to find a jerk, didn't she?

There were whispers all around here, the clearest voice belonging to the news reporter who was currently taping his report on the incident. The interesting part however was that not once did she hear the word 'murder' or 'suspect'. This was being labelled as an animal attack by a deranged bear maybe? Some people mentioned Bailey Downs but even in that context she didn't hear anything about murders, just attacks. Now this was certainly interesting. Did it mean that they had no clue what the Fitzgerald sisters had been up to? Even with the bodies and state of their home? – Big fucking hurray for once.

Ginger couldn't get caught in that now though, no she closed her ears and refused to listen to it further. Jason was somewhere in the near vicinity, probably still changed too and if they found him it wouldn't take them long to put him out like the pathetic thing he was. They'd find him eventually, use dogs or something. She just needed to be quicker. She needed to focus now. Her metabolism was boosted again so that had to mean her sense of scent was getting sensitive too. Jason had said he'd been able to smell her from miles away, and she'd smelled him too while supposedly human. She should be able to track him, right?

She tried to recall his scent, remember just what it'd consisted of. It'd been so different from everything else around her, stood out like a hint of red in a grey world. If that's how it'd been with him as well, she should've been able to sense him like she was seeing a beacon in the dark. He couldn't have gone that far, just far enough to avoid the initial search parties, elude humans with all costs. She just needed to see past the distance, really focus on this and she'd find him even in this weak state, she knew it.

Ginger focused her thoughts on him once again, envisioned him standing there leaning over her. How'd he smelled? What effect had his scent had on her except well, throwing her off in all the ways possible? Back in the woods when he'd held her, forced her to take a side, he'd been like the sun, blinding off everything else. Something like that couldn't escape her now could it? And yet she couldn't sense the faintest thing. Annoyed like hell Ginger starting striding off the camp site thinking furiously. What if she entered the woods a little further off and just let her instinct guide her? If it didn't work out she could always just walk back in her own tracks.

It's what she did; walked down the side of the road for a few miles and went into the woods then. This time she couldn't cut off her doubts though, for she was barely able to recite the mantra. McCardy was too troublesome, high-maintenance really. And with her pathetic excuse for werewolf abilities she wasn't any better. Then again she wasn't really in any place to bitch. She hadn't really wanted to spend the rest of her life looking like an oversized, bald rat now had she? Being back in human form was a blessing in disguise really.

She thought about yelling his name after awhile but decided against it, seeing as he might not be in shape to even recognize it. So she just continued going onwards, her feet moving in front of one another almost mechanically by now. This went on for hours. Eventually she had to admit that she had no clue how long she'd been walking, or if this was even the correct direction to be walking towards. And quite frankly she was getting very cranky again. The wet underbrush had wet her trainers and jeans by now and the feeling wasn't comfortable at all. It also looked like it was gonna start raining anytime soon so she wasn't too thrilled about finding him in the middle of nowhere either, if it meant she was gonna be stuck with him waiting for the rain to end in some hole.

Ginger was suddenly brought to a halt without her even knowing why she'd stopped in the first place. There was something here though, a vague sensation, a familiarity. She didn't smile for success yet though. The sensation was different from before, like she was responding to it in some unconscious manner. Ginger looked over her shoulder, to both of her sides and found nothing. Now this was just getting creepy.

"McCardy!" She shouted, still keeping her voice rather low. She didn't want just anyone to hear you know? A moment later she was pretty sure that her skin was crawling down her bones and leaving this place by now because she just couldn't stop herself from shaking. "Jason?" her voice was tenderer now, more worried. Something made a noise in the bush behind her, a branch cracked into two. She instantly turned her head to that direction but couldn't really see anything.

It was grey all around with the clouds blocking the sun, and there seemed to be hundreds of hiding places here. She gathered her courage and took a step towards the direction the noise had come from. Even in werewolf form, Jason would smell her, know it was her. – Right? Oh, convincing herself now was futile when her mind was betraying her, the fear trying to spread paralysis in every limb. Something moved in the distance, too quick for her to catch details but it was huge and black. Her big bad wolf estimation might've not been too off after all, Ginger thought nervously.

Then she got bored of playing a wuss and made her feet stop moving. "Fuck it McCardy I know it's you! Come out already!"

Her words were met with a low growl and a lot of distinctive noises that seemed to come all around her. She waited patiently, turned her attention to a new direction whenever she could trace the noise to one. Great, she was playing hide and seek with a wolf now. Cynical thoughts kept pooling in her head, coming out one at a time. Why the fuck was that bastard playing with her: Hiding in the dark trying to make her paranoid? She didn't like this one bit.

Another growl and a thumping sound approaching her from her backside, Ginger turned around disbelievingly as her eyes met with the tall creature. He was hunching, walking on four feet, but he was still almost her height and fucking tall if he stood over two feet. Jason certainly didn't look like a fucking rat. No, he was a wolf all the way. He had a wolf's head; his fur was rich and dark gray, his eyes two burning yellow orbs that gleamed evilly at her.

Ginger stared at him with mixed fear and respect. She couldn't tear her eyes from him. The lycanthrope moved closer to her now, never removing those eyes from her figure either. She let him come close, let the curious beast bring its muzzle to her hand, smell it, lick it. She was by no means comforted by anything he did; she merely froze still completely, allowed him to continue the scrutiny. All she was able to think now was how huge he was, how completely differentfrom her.

He raised his head again, made eye contact. She looked back unwaveringly, refusing to fear him. Then he lifted one paw from the ground, used it to knock her down on the ground. Ginger gasped in both pain and shock as she fell on her back. What the fuck was he doing now! The beast moved to her side, kneeled and set itself lying over the ground. Ginger was about to get up, but one hairy arm flung across her waist, forcing her back down. It forced the air out of her lungs but other than that the huge paw didn't do her any damage. Ginger stiffened again when the creature laid his head on her stomach as well. It looked like he was going to have a nap, using her as his pillow. How not-cute.

She swallowed her annoyance though, and pulled an arm behind her head. He observed her for a short while before closing his eyes and apparently giving into sleep. Well this was certainly one way to make sure she didn't go running off into the other direction, Ginger thought amused. She straightened her remaining hand and inched it closer to his head. As there was no seeming reaction she loosened up a bit and touched his fur, running hand down his cheek. He breathed in deep, sounding pleased, which made her do it again and move her hand to caress his neck.

One ear twitched as if irritated by something and Ginger moved her hand to scratch it gently. Her temper was calm now; she was relaxed even with his weight on her. She felt powerful, being able to be so close to him in this from and still prevail, remain alive. He had no ill intentions in store for her. It was like she could smell it in him, sense whatever he was feeling. Right now he was pleased, even a bit joyous after finding her.

Tomorrow she'd give him a piece of her mind concerning all of his stupid stunts as of late, but right now she was just content being here, so close, so safe.

TBC


	4. Welcome Home

Jason woke up groggy, kinda cold and his naked body slumped all over Fitzgerald's bosom. It certainly wasn't a bad way to wake up; he could think of worse places to find himself after a weekend full of gauging blood and entrails out of random campers. Ginger was still asleep, her chest going up and down calmly. He even detected a trace of red hair peaking from under her black cap whereas his head was undoubtedly bald by now. Damn, he'd kinda liked that hair cut.

So she'd come looking for him. Jason wasn't sure if he should be happy about it or not. She'd been able to trace him from a distance and what'd he done? Oh yeah, apparently gone to sleep on top of her. That was almost too gentleman-like for his alter ego, seeing as it was supposed to be a fucking beast, a predator that tore little girls like her to pieces. Then again he had nothing to complain about besides her being a bony pillow; she was alive, her pretty face was intact and she'd even put herself on the line to find him again. Maybe Fitz wasn't as big a bitch as she was pretending to be after all?

She moved a bit moaning in her sleep, making him aware of her arms that were wrapped around him. If she hadn't been clothed, he would've been wondering just what they'd been doing out here while his sense had been out hiking. Jason moved his hand, brought it to her cheek, and traced down her cheek gently with his fingertips. There was something about that simple action that he liked, that calmed him down. She mumbled something back at him but remained unconscious. Fine, do it the hard way then, he thought, pulling himself up and bringing his lips on hers. It most certainly woke her up.

Ginger's lovely green eyes opened up, horror reflected on them, and the next moment Jason felt her hand push between their faces and push him off her. She then wriggled free from underneath his body with haste. Now that hadn't been a nice way to wake up, she thought, wiping his taste off her lips. "Morning to you too, Ginger," Jason retorted, looking back at her like he just couldn't put his finger on her. She could swear he mouthed the word 'bitch' as well. God, she hated him.

Of course it didn't even occur to her that the morning before she would've been more than happy to find him naked behind the motel room door. No, she was too focused on the now where he was just as obnoxious as usual. "For the record you dumped your fat lycan body on top of me. I didn't crawl underneath you willingly," she stated, conjuring up another sour look on her pretty face. Jason just pretty much ignored her and stepped closer, pulling the cap from her head.

"Your hair's grown," he noticed and ran his fingers through the 4-inch-mane she was already growing. Ginger looked at him with surprise, not having realized it'd gotten so long already. Then her eyes settled on what was right in front of her, which happened to be her dear companion's bare chest. "We need to get you some clothes," she mumbled back, taking the cap from his hands and pulling it back on. She then stood up and wriggled out of her jacket, offering it to him.

"I'll go find them," she volunteered, more interested in getting the hell away from him for awhile than being helpful or anything. Jason had already gotten up and pulled the coat on when she was about to turn around and get the hell out of here; this is when she got stopped by his sudden grip on her forearm. "You wouldn't be thinking about running away now would you Fitz?" he asked, amused. There was that low, pleasurable tone in his voice again, trying to get through her defences.

She tore herself free from his hold. "I would've done that by now, jerk," she simply taunted and began striding off. "Bitch!" He yelled after her, his face catching a smile again when she settled to flip him off without even stopping.

Jason waited for her return for a few hours, sitting still and trying to recall anything he could about what'd happened while he'd been changed. He remembered thinking about the camp site, all those families that were trying to spend their short vacation nicely. He'd thought about the chubby kids, remembered yearning for a chance to tear them apart limb by limb, as the itching of his bloodshot eye had become unbearable and nearly made him blind. He'd had allergic responses through-out his metamorphosis. It'd started with a rash, brought forth those fucking pimples across his face, even led to the eye. He hadn't noticed anything of the like in her so it had to mean everyone adapted differently.

The next memory was about him standing there with bodies lying around him. Children ripped apart, their insides out. Parents with their faces clawed off, limbs separate from their bodies: Blood everywhere, a sated feeling inside him. He could swear he'd just come, there were fireworks in his eyes, the feeling of faintness spreading across his body. He was tired but it felt so fucking good that he was sure there'd never been a feeling to match this and never would be. It was better than fucking, better than jerking off under the covers, or getting high.

Should've it been disturbing for him to remember such things? Yeah probably, but all he focused on was the wide grin that'd just spread across his face – Sweet memories indeed.

It didn't take him long to catch her scent approaching. Guess she really was sticking with him, despite her obvious disgust whenever he tried to get close. A fucking head case that girl was. One moment she was checking him out approvingly and the next she looked like she wanted to smack him hard. By her scent right now he could sense she'd calmed down a bit, wasn't as cranky as she'd been in the morning. Good, because he really didn't want to end up wrestling her right now.

It took her twenty minutes to reach him after he'd first caught her scent. Either she was a damn slow walker, or his sense of smell was many times better than hers even in human form. Jason didn't care which it was, he was just happy to see her when she got back, carrying a pile of clothes and kicking rocks out of her way. He stood up at that point, glared curiously at the clothes she'd brought him and raised a brow. "You actually found someone my size this early?"

God he was stupid, Ginger thought and threw the pile at him, dropping the two army boots she'd carried with a different hand by his feet shortly afterwards. "I bought them," she settled to explain and sat down on the ground, bored and bothered. She then turned her back on him, unwilling to witness any action that included her seeing more of his bare flesh. Jason had no snappy reply for her, he just began dressing himself up silently. The shirt was a bit too big, but otherwise she'd thrown in a pretty accurate estimate of his measures. He was surprised.

After he was fully dressed again he walked up to her. "Don't I get a cap?" Jason asked, making her bend her head backwards and confess with a raspy voice, "That bald works for you."

He offered her his hand and she took it, getting him to pull her off the ground. "Bring anything else?" Jason questioned and smiled when she took out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from her pocket. "Now those I stole," Ginger confessed, unable to keep him under any delusions. She looked complacent, just had to brag; he figured it was in her nature, and thought the satisfied grin on her face was actually way hotter than her vulnerability had been.

Jason took out a cigarette and lit it quickly, inhaling relieving oblivion. It felt like a fucking remedy right now, after he'd been spending his nights outside ripping out people's entrails and howling at the moon – it was a piece of normality for once. Ginger put one in her mouth too, but didn't even look at the lighter, no, she always had to do things her own way. She took him by the nape of his neck, bringing their faces close enough for the cigarettes to meet and hers to catch fire from his. She then pulled back satisfied and breathed out a cloud of smoke before she started stretching her arms like a cat.

"So, where do you wanna go?" He asked, stopping to take another breather from the smoke. He continued after exhaling, "I mean, we've got the whole continent on a plate, Ginge. We can do anything we want." Go to places, kill people, have fun… Yeah he liked this plan. It had potential for greatness.

The look on Ginger's face was grim though. "I wanna find Brigitte," she confessed like she was spitting poison out of her mouth.

They shared a look. Did she want to kill her sister? Eat her? Fuck her? Well considering what Brigitte had done to his Ginger upon her transformation, the last option was a bit of a stretch now wasn't it? "I'm cool with that," Jason mumbled back, sounding indifferent enough to tell her he wasn't particularly thrilled about her plans. Ginger moved closer to him again, curious about his sudden submission. She tied her arms around him without warning, brought her cheek against his shoulder and whispered sullenly, "She stabbed me Jason, tried to fucking kill me. It's unforgivable."

And that was a psychotic look in her obsessed green eyes, he realized. She left him with two options: he could refuse, but what was the point? She'd nag about it; the issue would eat her until she was at her limits and who'd have to put up with that? Yeah, he! "As I said, I'm cool," he repeated, taking another drag of his cigarette, almost infuriatingly nonchalant in his response. She let it slide though; he was being too co-operative for her to start bitching about it. "Good," she said and stepped back smirking deviously.

"Now the only issue is finding her," he mumbled back, pretty sure that the little mouse had slipped through Ginger cat's paws for good already. Ginger didn't seem to agree with him. No, Ginger looked focused; her hand was rubbing the space between her chest and throat like she was concentrating on something real hard. "She infected herself," she said eventually, making Jason drop his cigarette and just stare at her. "And she stabbed you?" he asked, unbelieving that the betrayal went so deep. Why would it, if Brigitte had taken on the curse willingly?

That look of malice was upon her face again. "She thinks it's a disease, so she was looking for a cure," she spat out. Brigitte had really thought it was something bad up until the end. She'd even gone as far as made friends with that cherry popper, who was way more interested in what was under her skirt than hunting lycanthropes. Whatever was coming for her, she definitely deserved it after fucking her up so good.

Searching for a cure? Jason was pretty sure Brigitte had been onto something because the contents of that syringe had worked on him, slowed down the process. "Whatever it was it worked," he said, gaining Ginger's wide eyes on him. He then pointed at his neck for her and continued, "She stabbed me with a syringe. It made my head clear up for awhile."

Oh, great. "That shit works?" Ginger wasn't in awe; she was disgusted with her own flesh and blood. So the junky had been right, monkshood was effective. Too bad for him it hadn't helped him any when she'd dragged him downstairs taken a bite of hypocrite ass. Ginger savoured the thought for a moment, until she realized Jason was looking at her expectantly. She then continued with her earlier thought, "Anyway, if she's infected she'll go haywire at some point."

"And kill people. It'll be reported somewhere." Jason was following her train of thought quite well; she thought and complimented him again silently. "We find the right city-," he continued, bringing about her enthusiastic approach on him as she walked close and fake punched him in the gut jubilantly. "You can track her down," Ginger laughed, and brought her hand to his neck. Jason raised a brow at the sudden closeness.

She just gazed at him. "I'm almost glad you're with," she confessed, further confusing her companion with her mixed signals. She lingered close for a minute, tasted this electricity that existed between them. It was ecstatic, exciting, it made her heart race. Then he placed his hand on hers and ended her daydreaming. "We'd better get going Fitz," he said, removing her hand from his neck. "Unless you wanna stay and nest here."

The feeling vanished and she was splashed with cold water again. It cooled down her ardour efficiently. Then again this was McCardy, you couldn't spend five minutes with him without him blurting out something stupid. He was getting more bearable, but there was still a long way to go until she could actually expect good things from him.

"Whatever you say McCardy," she taunted and glanced at the direction she'd walked towards to when getting him the clothes. She envisioned everything she'd seen while in town and remembered a bus station. "There's a bus station near," she suggested, setting out towards that same destination. "Where's it take?" Jason asked, curious about what'd cooked all of the sudden.

"Does it matter?" Ginger asked mischievously.

TBC


	5. The Promise

It'd started raining sometime after they'd gotten out of the woods. At this point Jason had removed his jacket off his back and held it over their heads like a fucking umbrella. Ginger felt he was being way too knightly again, but kept her mouth in fear that he'd just leave her in the pouring rain. Besides it didn't even help that long, since eventually the jacket did start leaking through, leaving them moist and panting by the time they got into the nearest town and found shelter from the rain.

Ginger had never walked such long distances as she'd walked for the past days, and couldn't seem to grasp where she'd even gotten her sudden stamina. Jason was always quick to place his bets on the wolf theory and she was always quick to deny him. "Or maybe it's all the fucking exercise I've had lately," she retorted, narrowing her eyes dangerously, as if warning him not to go there. Yeah, there'd been fucking, running and tearing doors off their hinges and the like, so she wasn't even lying.

Jason just scoffed at her, ignoring her excuses when he could tell clearly she was making it all up. They were still stuck under the same jacket, but the rain had gotten a lot gentler, which made him eventually pull the jacket off their heads. "Where to now?" he asked, expecting her to know better since she was the one, who'd been here before. Her stomach was quick to protest and made noises to indicate its contents were a bit too empty right now. "Hungry?" He laughed.

Strangely enough he wasn't. They'd been running for awhile and yet his body didn't feel disturbed by the exercitation the slightest. Ginger raised a brow. "And you're not?" He shrugged back, unable to offer her an explanation. "Poor baby, your stomach must still be full from all of those campers," she mocked him. Yeah, Jason thought grimly, that probably was the case.

While he was being pensive though, Ginger was already looking for a place to eat. Just because he'd had gourmet entrails, didn't mean she'd have to starve, now did it? Besides she needed something warm to get rid of this shaking. Her clothes weren't soaked, but glued to her skin never the less, and the sooner she got some coffee, the sooner Jason wouldn't have to hear her complain about getting some. Her eyes spotted some kind of diner/restaurant further down the street. "Well, I still need my meals," she noted dryly and started walking towards her chosen destination without waiting for his approval.

"Didn't think for a second you wouldn't," Jason replied and followed her while trying to squeeze the water out of his jacket by twisting it. Sure water came out, but it probably wouldn't be dry for a few hours, he noticed to his disappointment. So much for that attempt at chivalry, seeing as she'd barely even noticed the gesture.

Ginger pulled herself through the distance with grace and pushed herself inside the place she'd chosen. Jason followed her without voicing his complains and sat across her in the nearest table. "Knock yourself out," he instructed while eyeing for a waitress to take their orders. It didn't take Ginger long to peal the coat off her shoulders and be all over the menu. It wasn't all that different from what the diner she'd eaten near the motel had had to offer, but at least this time the smell coming from the kitchen was watering her tongue. Jason just flung his wet jacket over the radiator under their table and relaxed on his seat.

A waitress appeared before them shortly and wrote down whatever it was that Ginger had ordered. Jason didn't really pay any attention until the waitress turned to look at him and his voice his desire for a hot cup of coffee. She then assured the food would be ready in a minute and took off, leaving the two of them alone again. Ginger wasn't keen on talking so she kept running her eyes across the room in an attempt to look at anything but him. Jason wasn't sure what he should talk about either, seeing as she mostly responded to him with some level of evil sarcasm, or a taunt about his intelligence and the like. He did eventually think of a subject that he knew she wouldn't piss all over his face.

"Any idea where Brigitte could've flown off to?" He asked, catching her completely by surprise. Her mind emptied of mean comments as she was forced to actually think about what he'd said. She had to shake her head eventually though. "No clue," she admitted. Just as he'd thought; their search for Brigitte would most likely take months if not years, seeing as Brigitte might not be losing her mind any time soon. She did have something that suppressed the effects of the change after all – Fucking monkshood.

The waitress returned and put a warm cup of coffee in front of Jason. He thanked her and lifted the cup on his lips, witnessing the hungry way Ginger was eyeing his nectar soon after. He sipped the coffee, saw her wet her lips while she observed his drinking calculatingly. As usual she just had to have it all.

They sat across one another in silence, while he drank his coffee and she waited for her food to arrive. There weren't much people around. The weather was lousy, the hour had just passed lunch time and it was a regular weekday. Ginger frowned upon realizing she didn't even know what day today was. "Monday," he said, as if he'd anticipated her question. He lifted his cup on her side of the table soon after. There was still some coffee in it too. How generous.

She took the cup without thinking and drank the rest of the coffee, which made her cough a bit. It was still hot, helped spread warmth back in her body; make her feel more human again. She almost considered voicing her gratitude, but seeing as he didn't even seem to expect that from her anymore, she forgot the thought quickly.

It didn't take long for her food to arrive after that and when it did, she attacked it immediately, realizing only now just how hungry she'd been. Jason observed her dining without much interest. She had a steak of some sort on her plate, some white sauce on it and French fries. By the speed she was devouring the plate empty he estimated they wouldn't be here much longer. Good, because he was starting to get stupid back in his head just by looking at her.

Ginger noticed his stare got fixated on her eating again and moved her eyes up to him from the plate. "What?" she asked, mouth still filled with food. Jason just shook his head though. "Forget it. You don't wanna hear," he tried convincing her, succeeding only in piquing her interest.

She finished chewing her latest spoonful and swallowed quickly. "No, tell," she noted dryly, cleansing her teeth with her tongue. "Since we're together, like you wanted, we should learn to share things." Now her reasoning made sense, he was just sure she didn't mean any of it. Ginger probably wanted another reason to poke fun at him, feel superior in her bitchiness. Fine then, you asked for it.

"Fine," he said. "Yeah, share," she urged him to, crossing her hands on the table.

"Does this feel like a date to you? I mean… a diner, you, me… you eating food that I paid."

Ginger felt nauseated. She really should've believed him and just kept her mouth shut, eh? "You just never stop, do you McCardy?" she asked, looking at him like he was the biggest vermin on the planet now. She couldn't even think of eating now, not after he'd planted that fucking thought in her head.

"See," he said. "You didn't wanna hear."

She was really starting to get pissed. Even more than when he'd abandoned her in that shitty motel. Ginger leaned closer to him, motioning him to lean a bit closer too. "Let me tell you something, you little prick," she hissed harshly at him. "Werewolves don't date. We just-"

"Mate for life?" He suggested getting the little colour that was left on her face to drain away instantly. Well, she'd asked for it. Ginger's wide green eyes were like two endless wells for a moment, until a murderous gleam invaded them. "What?" She snapped at him as if to see if he cared to repeat that last comment. If he didn't she'd graciously let it slip and forget he'd ever opened his big mouth again.

"It's what wolves do," Jason enlightened her calmly. "They pick a mate without drama and fucking stick with their pick until one dies. In other words, mate for life." Oh he had no right to lecture biology to her, talking like he knew better. He didn't, he was a useless prick who never paid attention in class. In other words, he knew shit.

Ginger leaned backwards slowly until her back met with solid material again. Her face was sour, bitchy, irritated – whatever you wanted to call that death glare of hers. And when she started talking again, she didn't pause for awhile. "You've got to be fucking kidding me."

"First you drag me in, make me order while refusing to eat anything yourself since you're still packed with human guts. Then you suddenly come up with another of your never ending delusional theories about animal mating and just have to share it with me, thinking it'll somehow justify the fact that I still give you a woody."

She then cast her eyes on her half-eaten plate, visibly revolted. "I'm not even hungry anymore," she whispered and was about to get up and take off, only Jason got up first and moved to the other side of the table, sitting right next to her to force her back down without making a big fuss.

"Sit back down and finish your fucking plate Ginger," he ordered, pushing her down from her shoulder. It wasn't any wussy way he said it with either, no he was serious, clearly at his limits with his patience. She succumbed, grabbing her fork again and using it to stab the fries on the plate violently.

"You really bolt at every little thing," he judged, moving his hand over her shoulders almost unwillingly as a few curious eyes had been cast on them. She ignored his presence, convinced herself that she didn't want to throw him off because it'd be too suspicious. Besides the food was pretty good and she actually wanted to finish her plate. Jason saw it a fit chance to correct his misbelieves about his earlier comments.

"Look, all I said was that under normal circumstances we'd be having a date. Guess what? The situation isn't exactly normal here."

There was a seed of truth in his words, even she could admit that. She wasn't going to let him off that easily though so she just continued eating and mumbled with contempt, "He speaks."

"You're gonna have to learn a little respect here, considering we do have an agreement." Ginger blinked at Jason's words. Had he just made a threat? She hesitated for a second there, but ended up placing the food in her mouth after all and chewing it alert. He noticed she'd registered his words and continued then, the arm he'd thrown around her shoulders reaching for her cheek, "If you shit on it-"

She shivered when his fingers met her cheek and jerked off just enough to break off skin contact. Their eyes met as her face turned to meet his. She hadn't even realized he'd inched this close to her. There was barely any space between their faces now. "You'll do what? Leave me alone?"

It was at this point while their eyes were locked in intensively and there were just a few inches between them that Jason could actually disregard her tone of voice and forget all about the sometimes fake sometimes not contempt she was eager to show him. He forgot all about Ginger here and all he saw was a bitch that questioned his authority in this companionship while she still owed him. "I'll kill you," Jason promised, dead serious.

She was in the woods again; fearing the beast she couldn't see but knew was around. He had the power to push her down, tear her apart like a little rag doll of no importance and she was afraid of both herself and him. It wasn't like it'd been before. Why could she never remember it?

"Whatever you say boss," she responded finally, turning her head away from him as her hand reached for her glass of water. Drinking it calmed her down a bit, but didn't remove the tension level that peaked between them again. Beside her Jason was fidgeting with her earring, caressing her earlobe. "Better be, Fitz," he whispered back smugly, before he pulled away and made his way back to his own seat.

He pulled up his jacket from the radiator and tested it all around, finding it surprisingly dry by now. He then lifted the jacket for her to see. "Look, Fitz, almost dry."

Just like that. Like nothing had just happened.

She really was moving around with a wolf. A big bad one that had something as harmless as grandma's skin pulled on him for cover. It was only every once in awhile that he gave it away with his act.

Ginger pushed away her plate, set the fork and knife neatly together pointing them at 5 o'clock. He waved for the waiter eagerly, gave her money for the food and pointed his poignant glare at her. "You want anything else?"

Ginger just grabbed her coat and got going without him. She needed to get outside, breathe, and beat this sensation away from the bottom of her stomach, because he'd just threatened to kill her. Jason had said it aloud, meant it fully and she was both distressed and aroused by it. Fuck!

TBC


	6. Devoted

Having to deal with Ginger Fitzgerald was no joyride. Jason if anyone had been enlightened on the subject endlessly ever since he'd gotten through to her and then in her pants. One moment she was completely into something and the next she wanted to wreck it. She was a wayward child, a force of nature that struggled to roam free. But she needed boundaries too and setting them was one hell of a job. Especially when she wouldn't even talk to him after he'd tried to set the said boundaries.

Okay so, maybe threatening her life wasn't the way to proceed in this messy situation, but at the time he'd felt she needed to hear it, and, God forbid, he'd meant it too. He'd really felt like he could reach out his hand to her throat and rip it open with no greater regret. If she had continued with her fuck off attitude then, he just might've too, but no, she'd pulled back and submitted. The next she'd already ran outside and stood there leaning against a wall with a burning cigarette in her shaking hands when he'd found her.

She hadn't really talked to her after that, and he hadn't tried to discourage silence between either. They just walked around town until they'd found the bus stop they'd talked about earlier on and Ginger had picked a random location from the list. After that they'd waited for the bus to arrive. It'd taken its merry-fucking time too as it'd turned out: hours to be exact.

He'd tried to drag her ass inside the car then but she'd suddenly decided she wanted to go to another place instead and went right back to the spot where he'd just hauled her up from. Jason had considered kicking her, maybe slapping that attitude off her face, but considering why she was giving him a hard time in the first place he'd given up and just sat down. And again they'd waited.

Few hours later, another bus had arrived and Jason had noticed to his great pleasure that she was still intending to get on it. He'd paid them in, watched her move to the darkest corner in the damn car and then made him sit in it while she got the corridor seat. Few minutes later she'd told him to wrap his arm around her and proceeded to fall asleep against him. He hadn't quite understood any of it, but hadn't had the energy to start fighting with her either. The time for that would come later for sure.

It was already dark by the time the bus was supposed to have reached its destination and Ginger had been slumbering blissfully for most of the journey by then. Jason on the other hand had been fully awake. He'd watched the sceneries change, the light of day drain from that horizon when the evening came and felt oddly comforted to know they were nowhere near Bailey Downs anymore. There was something about the place - maybe its connection to who they'd been - that threw him off. He didn't want to remember that life anymore. In it he'd been the guy stalking her with his eyes from the corner of the football field. He'd sat there with his friends, watched her, cheered, thrown in mean comments and enjoyed himself fully.

But that person wasn't him. It was the same motherfucker that'd began squeaking like a schoolgirl when his urine had turned red, or the guy that had been straddled by the freak Fitzgerald. He was another Jason, a wolf, a free man. The difference between him and the weak boy was so fundamental that just implying he had anything to do with his former self felt like an insult. He put up with it from her, because he couldn't tell the difference between Fitz the freak and werewolf Ginger either. He would eventually though; he'd get right down to the bottom of her.

He turned his head from the scenery, looked at her sleeping form: her face pressed against his chest, that blissfully unaware expression. If someone had told him three months ago that he'd be holding her like this while they were in a bus going to the middle nowhere, he would've had that person's head checked. They were from different worlds then. She was girl plotting suicide to the point where she would have her pictures taken while posing in different after-suicide poses, whereas he couldn't care less about anything but some weed and chasing skirts. The only common space they had was when there was no space between them.

And now, light years away from that situation he was tempted to brush off that lock of red hair from her face. He was tempted to touch her again, place his mouth on hers, and move inside her until she admitted it wasn't just hate between them. This was different from the closeness back in his car. That'd been quick, almost empty. Today it wouldn't even prove to be satisfactory. No, this was affectionate, caring. Whatever this beast inside of him was, it recognized that they were alike and felt drawn to her for that reason. He'd already found himself thinking that she belonged to him, so maybe it was a wolf thing like he'd tried telling her.

It wasn't just that they were alike either. No he'd been drawn to her long before that. Ginger was the kind of girl your wet dreams were made of. She was fucking beautiful, even when she barely had hair on her head. It was the grace she had when she wasn't even aware of her beauty that made her shine: When she didn't make an effort to please but acted on her whims and did everything just the way she wanted to.

She was always so confident, free in all the ways she shouldn't be. Not anymore, now she'd been caged where he'd been freed. She was struggling to get back on top of the game but couldn't seem to heal the hole in her stomach despite her desperate attempts to regenerate. She'd told him Brigitte had aimed for the ribs; that her grip on the knife hadn't faltered even when she'd slid down with it still stuck in her gut. Sure there'd been tears, but no true remorse. Brigitte hadn't wanted to see her get up afterwards. That's what kept Ginger so shattered, made the pieces hard to pick up.

Then the bus rolled out of darkness, light engulfed it again and Jason realized they were there. He shook her a bit to wake her and got a groan out of her as proof that he didn't need to get intimate to wake her up. Or then she'd just become a light sleeper after that one. "We're there." He told her, observing her groggy face. "Really?" she asked her voice still thick from sleep.

She was the one to move first, retreat from this lovely position and straighten up. He felt warm after having her cuddle against his chest for so long but the warmth began retreating immediately after she walked out of the bus, leaving him chasing after her clumsily like he'd been the one to doze off for a few hours. When he got out, the doors slid close behind him and the bus got going again, as if in haste to get the fuck out of here.

Ginger stood a few meters away from him, probably digging her pockets for more cigarettes, only she couldn't find any. Oh yeah, she'd given them to the fucker beside her after he'd taken hold of her shaking hands and lit the cigarette in her mouth for her. He hadn't said anything, just looked a bit repentant when he'd stuffed the lighter and cigarettes in his pockets afterwards. She turned to face him, unsure whether she could ask for them back now.

He looked back at her, interpreting her facial expressions quietly before he took a step forward and offered her a cigarette again. Any cockiness she'd regained while waiting for his return in that motel room seemed to have vanished again. Fuck, wasn't there a middle ground between scared little fuck Ginger and bitch Ginger? "Complain a little," he said while lighting his own cigarette, "you're starting to get me worried."

She almost even smiled at that. "Well I dunno, McCardy. You didn't exactly explain what shitting on our deal is," she mumbled a moment later, apparently recovered. Good, he didn't want to drag a scared shitless girl with him. She needed to keep that attitude of hers, at least partly.

"I don't like to be thrown things at, or downplayed every fucking minute," he listed, wondering if there was a third to add in there. "I'd also like to be shown a little gratitude when I do something nice."

Ginger closed the gap between them, immediately gaining his full attention. Her eyes were full of contradicting spunk that she showed by smiling mischievously. "How much gratitude?" She asked sliding her hand beneath his armpit and entangling it together with his like she was in heat in again. The cold air made him shiver, but her body radiated warmth, and she seemed to have forgotten all about their disagreements. Hell, this was downright a reminiscent of her coming onto him before.

He measured her with his eyes for a moment, sensing the slightest hint of hope. "Any you feel like giving."

She looked back at him like a predator to her prey. Her eyes shone, her lips were curved with invitation. He didn't care what'd changed her mind so quickly at this point. No, just knowing there wasn't another strained moment waiting for them behind the corner today gave his mind some long-waited ease.

Jason scanned their surroundings, looking at his left and right and then at her hand in his. She didn't let go even after she was fully aware that he'd registered it by now, he noticed somewhat joyously. Then his eyes had already shifted back to their surroundings. His voice sounded alert and strained when he spoke next. "Let's get going. I have a bad hunch about this place."

She let him tighten his hold on her hand and didn't try to wriggle her way out it, because she'd noticed the change in him; how he sounded concerned. The firm grip also felt nice for a change, after she'd avoided touching anything for real since she'd been rejected by the only person, who had been able to calm her with her closeness. Maybe this was a good sign, seeing as they didn't exactly excel at making skin on skin contact without one or the other prepared to be wriggling her or his way out of it quickly, Ginger wondered. The furrows on Jason's forehead deepened after he glanced over his shoulder for the second time already.

It didn't rain anymore though the moist asphalt shined under light to prove it had. The place she'd picked was a city he'd never really heard of before. The buildings weren't reaching for the skies, but tall enough to form shadowy allies between them. There were also traffic lights in the crossways, so there had to be a moderate amount of people. Maybe measured in tens of thousands?

Not a lot of people were on the move, it was the quiet hour between the evening and night, the darkness that'd landed still felt alien. Some kids here and there, riding skateboards and yelling at by-passers. Cars ran past them, ringing their horns, the jubilant youth inside screaming, throwing stuff out of the windows. Neither of them really paid any attention, just kept scanning the area for a place to stay.

Jason still couldn't trace the reason for his unease or restlessness, just knew he didn't like this place. His hold on Ginger's hand tightened when a drunkard passed by, mumbling something at them, but losing interest quickly. Jason yelled a 'fuck you' after him, and continued walking, even more pissed now. She just frowned at it, couldn't understand why he was so tense. His eyes sailed on the horizon almost obsessively.

"You're strung up pretty tight," she commented, getting no response as he tried to avoid talking about it at first. She yanked his arm gently next and got him to look at her and sigh, "No I'm not."

"You're not?" she asked, doubtful and bored. "What the fuck do you give?" He snapped and pulled their arms apart suddenly, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jeans. Now he was really moody, like he'd be having that time of the month. Ginger wasn't exactly the expert in handling cranky people, seeing as she was usually the one throwing a fit, but seeing him this vexed brought up unusual concern in her. She kinda wanted to help… or at least get him to act all dorky again because his bitchiness was catchy.

"What about that bad hunch? Wanna tell me about that?" She tried to smooth talk the answer out of him, even laid her hand on his shoulder. His body jerked away from her as soon as she touched him though, bringing them both to a halt. They were left staring at one another bewildered. She could see pearls of sweat in his hairline, a troubled look on his face like he was being really uncomfortable – Like a dog with its tail between its legs, making noises.

The image stuck with her, although he was eager to shake it and started walking again with an increased pace. "McCardy," she raised her voice while calling out his name and took a few running steps to reach him. The motherfucker was being really difficult right now. She was about to reach him now, had gotten by his side, when a by-passer bumped into her, getting her off-course and face to face with an unfamiliar leering face. Her focus shifted from Jason, who walked on for a moment before he even noticed she wasn't still walking behind him.

The shadows in his eye corner alerted him though and Jason froze, turning to see what'd happened to Ginger. She tried to take a step closer to him but got caught off by the stranger again, who shot her with an evaluating look and whispered something obscene at her. "In your fucking dreams!" She yelled, pulling back from the person blocking her way to Jason. Her eyes went wild, her hand was clutched to a fist, but the stranger wouldn't back down, just kept staring at her in an unwelcome way.

Jason's blood began boiling, his mind was getting static and reason vanishing; it didn't take him but seconds to get what the underlying tension was about. Then he'd already strode back to them just as the man was about to start approaching Ginger. "Leave her the fuck alone!" He commanded, taking the stranger by the fist and yanking at his hand. Only his ears registered with a fleshy noise of something tearing apart and Jason quickly found himself holding an arm by the wrist – an arm that was no longer attached to the stranger's shoulder.

The stranger's eyes widened as the information reached his brain and the pain kicked in and he started screaming quickly, his horrified eyes locked with his prematurely ending limb. His eyes then registered with the harmless looking Jason standing behind him, holding his arm in his grip, his face completely blank. The man began running; he rushed past Ginger, screaming and bumping into everything along the way. Some time after he'd vanished from sight, they were still there, listening to his resounding screaming and staring at the arm Jason was holding in unison.

"What the fuck?" Ginger cursed, harping to Jason who still wasn't moving. He just stared at the arm, and then lifted his gaze and pointed it right past Ginger, before his gaze fell on the arm again. She didn't stay and wait, but took the arm from him and grabbed his shoulders to shake him awake from the shock. He was still stuck in that moment, unable to catch the enormity of what he'd just done.

"Jason!" She called his name and ended up slapping him, which finally shifted his eyes on her. He was still staggered, but at least now he was thinking straight again.

"How the fuck did you manage that?" She asked, crushing the arm in her grasp until realizing she was still holding onto it and dropping it on the ground. "I don't fucking know!" He protested against her anger, clearly adamant that he wasn't to be blamed for any of this.

Ginger didn't listen to his excuses though; just grabbed him from his forearm and started dragging him away from the crime scene in fear that the now one-armed molester would be dragging the police there some time soon. She actually hoped the bleeding would get to him before that, because there was no way she'd be taken in for something like this. Avoiding trouble after you'd just slaughtered half a dozen people and then gone Houdini after it was pretty important if you didn't wanna get caught.

Jason just stared at his blood smeared hand, unable to grasp the strength his harmless looking limb now possessed. He was a fucking god, probably the one of carnage, even in human form. But why wasn't she?

TBC


	7. Stricken

He wanted to crawl out of his skin and abandon it on the floor alongside with his shame and anxiety. His head felt swollen, a vein on his temple kept on throbbing and nothing seemed to make enough sound to reach his ears. The only thing he felt were the issues inside. He was numb to the rest: to her dragging him alongside with her through the streets like he was a mindless doll, a servant built just for her. Maybe he was. He was her creation wasn't he?

It hurt to know she hadn't intended any of this: his change, their union or this run across the nation. He'd wanted her so badly that he'd submitted to anything. He'd hated anyone just looking at her, speaking obscene words at her, that he'd torn off their arm. And now he was covered in cold sweat, holding his shaking hand and wondering just what the fuck was going on.

Ginger wasn't as bemused as he was. She'd immediately taken over the situation by dragging him out of the crime scene and then walked him around town for awhile before asking someone about a motel. She'd eventually found it, dragged him inside and gotten them a room. The bad part was they were starting to run out of money, having lived like this for awhile now, so she hadn't been able to rent the room for more than a few days. The good thing was that her boy was proving himself worthy again.

Ginger made him sit down on the edge of the bed and threw her coat off her shoulders, then running to the bathroom and getting some wet towels to clean the little bloodstains he had on him. Jason was still in shock, or at least not entirely present, as he'd been ever since the event. She ignored it for now, focusing on cleaning him and making sure he was okay. He was of no worth to her if damaged.

"Hey," her deep voice called to him, finally gaining his attention. His breathing calmed down a bit when he laid his eyes on his girl again; she was undamaged and looking at him like he was special or actually mattered to her. She lifted her hand on his cheek and ran the wet towel across the side of his neck, wiping the sweat off. The cold felt good against his heated body and she noticed how he frowned at the touch and relaxed seemingly. Ginger ran the towel against his neck as well.

"You okay, wolf boy?" She asked and stopped to examine him again. He didn't answer, just stared back dumbfounded as she made him open his mouth and lean his head backwards she could examine his teeth. They were normal as was everything else about his physique. There seemed to be no evidence of his change having become any faster. Ginger came up with a hypothesis quickly.

Obviously there were no schedules with their change anymore. Once the wolf was inside of you, it came out when it pleased and in such big or small amounts as it was needed to. It was completely irreversible too, for both of them appeared human even though they had wolf qualities.

She ran her hand lazily across his bald head, comforting him as he finally exhaled deeply. "Shhhh, it's all okay now, Jason," Ginger said and brought her body closer to his bringing his face into her embrace. Jason just didn't fall in and allow himself to be comforted.

"Okay?" He asked, moving away from her with suspicion all over his face. "I just ripped off an arm from a guy! And I had no control over myself, whatsoever!"

Jason wanted to keep his distance, maybe keep her safe that way. No matter how accepting and admiring she looked now, she wouldn't be smiling like that after she'd pushed him over the edge and made him hurt her. It was the image repeated in his nightmares, his fears. All else he could embrace but not being so unpredictable that he had to hold himself back in fear, because his devious nature put her in danger.

"Relax," Ginger commanded with an icier tone of voice this time around. She was done with moping around and whining. The angst was so uncalled for. He'd saved her for god's sake! When was that asshole happy with anything!

"I could've hurt someone," Jason said, unable to look her in the eye.

"I thought you already did," Ginger mumbled back dryly, anxious to see this display of self-pity come to an end.

It was only then that Jason could look back. "I could've hurt you," he said, his voice drenched in agony. He didn't want to admit it but had no other choice either. The rush that'd come with the violence before had been the sweetest thing, even better than the anticipation she put him through.

She couldn't mock him this time, not when he was so disgustingly worried over her safety. That wuss – He'd stepped in on time, hadn't he? What more could he possibly want? A public pardon or something? Sighing, Ginger sat next to him, forcing his hand to lock with hers. She then placed her hand on his neck, turning his head back to her. She made him look her straight in the eye.

"Hardly," she answered, knowing very well the wolf would never hurt her. It'd been proven in the woods when she'd come to find him and found the canine instead. It'd been gentle with her, protective like she meant everything to it. She couldn't imagine him hurting her after that display, no matter what threat he'd thrown at her in the heat of his anger.

They were frozen for a moment; eyes locked together, fingers entwined, closer than she would've liked. Ginger didn't pull back though; she believed him when he said it'd never happen like that. That if he'd come to hurt her, it wouldn't be by accident, but that she'd have brought it upon herself. The thought shouldn't be comforting and yet it was, like she actually thought she owed him that much, that her life was in his hands for a good reason. Ginger abandoned her pensive thoughts quickly though, focusing on how things were good for a change, how light shone at the end of the tunnel.

"Trust me, if you ever try and do me in, I'll fucking kick your ass, okay?" She joked and slapped the back of his head, pulling away a bit. Being this close wasn't exactly comforting when her mind got around to thinking too much.

Even Jason seemed to relax at the joke, came to realize how she really wasn't some damsel in distress but a dangerous opponent herself. When put together, they really could freak some nasty havoc alright. He smiled at the thought, catching an inviting glimpse in her eye as she brushed her messy hair off her face.

"Do you think you could do it again?" Ginger asked hopefully upon remembering their current financial situation. It didn't take him long to start chuckling at her suggestion. "Probably, yeah," he evaluated, making her nod approvingly. "Good."

There they were again, stuck close to one another, no way of climbing out of this good place between them but ending it awkwardly. Jolts travelled her bare arms, her top hung low enough to grant him a view to the valley between her breasts. She'd removed the cap from her head and her hair had grown another four inches during the day, leaving flaming locks to frame her face. He looked kind of cute in her eyes when he looked at her so devotedly, like he liked what he saw; accepted her without question.

She had that alluring scent again, that feel to her that made a maelstrom out of every rational thought. That challenge in her eyes made him stir and just like that his jeans suddenly felt way too tight. She wasn't injured anymore, she wasn't injured anymore; he repeated the sentence in his head like a mantra, the little hairs on his skin shooting up in anticipation.

Ginger couldn't believe she was actually thinking about this, reading the same emotion from his flustered face and wanting to respond to it. She remembered their previous time all too well; Her attacking him like an animal in heat, him amused with her wanton behaviour, but wanting control, wanting to do it the way he was used to. She'd pushed him down, straddled him, and clawed him. And afterwards it'd been so disappointing with him moaning underneath her, face twisting in ecstasy while she felt absolutely nothing but an unfamiliar sensation between her legs. And he'd come inside her, relaxed right afterwards and lost his drive that easily.

She'd been left on top of him, failing miserably at understanding anything. She was still as hot and bothered as before, having him inside her had changed nothing. The bastard hadn't even seemed to notice the displeased expression on her face; he'd just focused on his own afterglow, eyes closed, and his whole body slack. She'd pulled away, slowly removed him from inside of her, and loomed about with an unrecognized hurt in her throat and her back pressed against the ceiling. She'd taken off after that, not bothered to look after her, to see if he'd even realized she'd just left.

And now she was thinking of doing it again, just because he seemed like a bit less of a jerk tonight.

Jason couldn't tell for sure what she was thinking, but had a good idea of what it might be. He remembered their first time too all too well. He'd been the abuser back then, just laying there afterwards, not even bothering to see if their encounter had been as satisfactory to her as it'd been to him. When she'd pulled away, he'd kinda expected her to lay on him again: to cuddle, maybe talk or have a smoke. Well, freak Fitz wasn't one of those girls, no, she'd just took off, slamming the door closed behind her and getting the hell away from him as fast as she could.

It should've gone down differently. It still could.

God, he couldn't hold himself off. Jason pulled her close, grabbing her from her shoulder and neck, and kissing her already. She didn't resist, couldn't, wouldn't. The desire living in her stomach was too much. The fact that he kinda smelled of blood didn't help either, just made the hunger all the more ravenous. His hand slid to the small of her back, caressing, bringing her closer to him. Her legs were wide open quickly, wantonly spread on his each side.

He smelled good, like cigarettes and the outside air and that red stuff she craved for. She wanted to lick it off him, clean every last spot. She was still angry at him though: aggravated by many things he'd said or done. It didn't bother her she was channelling off her anger this way though, no, it made her feel too strong, too untouchable for it to be victorious for him too. The pressure of his hard-on against the junction of her legs felt heavenly. Her hands were already wandering underneath his shirt, caressing his shoulders that were moist from sweat.

Where his other hand was groping her ass, the other had taken position between her jaw and neck, fingers sunken into her hair, always inching in a bit deeper and deeper. His body was aching, burning up in her presence. His fingers found her ear again, began fiddling with the earring and then tore it off her earring with a violent yank. She gasped in pain, pulled their lips apart and looked at him as pissed as hell for a second before she attacked his neck and the delicate flesh there. Jason's lips quickly found their way to the wounded ear and he sucked the fresh blood off her ravished flesh eagerly.

She pulled off his shirt, threw it over her head and arched back just enough for him to remove her top. Ginger didn't waste time showing off her bare chest, just focused on unzipping his jeans furiously, while he repositioned her and placed her lying on the bed, climbing on top of her himself while she wriggled out of her own pants. While pulling them down, he became aware of the bandaged wound on her stomach again and the painful face she made when she had to bend too much to get rid of the useless clothing. Jason quickly flipped her on top of him, fearing he'd end up crushing her underneath him if it got too rough.

Their lips were joined together again, her holding his face between her hands eagerly as Jason struggled to remove the last obstacle between their naked bodies. This was insane, and probably unsatisfactory, but she couldn't help herself. There was something at work here that she didn't quite understand, but when she touched him and he touched her back she felt like they were meant to be doing this right here, right now.

His eyes lit up when they were entwined again. It felt familiar, like meeting with a long lost friend or lover. She caressed his bald head, writhed under his touch that travelled everywhere. He even rose to gently caress her bandaged wound, the sensitive skin there that the gauze protected.

For a moment everything was different, enthralling. Then the peak was there and all that lay beyond it was a rocky slope down.

TBC


	8. Sleep Together

Morning already; she couldn't see the difference in the dark, but felt it never the less. Like there was something looming behind the closed curtains, like the air was fresh with morning dew. She tried moving a bit, only to find her muscles stiff and aching, and additional limbs wrapped around hers. So it hadn't been just a wet dream made up by her exceptionally delusional mind? No she'd really let him touch her without gauging his eyeballs out and even ended up liking it for awhile.

Ginger took a deep breath carefully, bit her lip and wondered how to squirm out of this bed with Jason's hand still left affectionately over her breast. Could she remove it without waking him up, because something told her this time it wouldn't be so easy to pretend it hadn't really happened?

She couldn't believe she'd allowed herself to be coaxed into believing intimacy would solve all their problems. There'd been hurt and bruises, an obsession to drown her in him and eventually they'd reached a peak. She'd come and he'd come and their sweaty bodies had clung onto one another while the short-lived euphoria had slowly become a void instead. They'd repeated the action with the same result once and again.

Now she laid next to him, the disappointment still a fresh wound in her mind. Just dust. A supernova of ten seconds or less and all you ended up feeling was the discomfort of the other person's closeness. This was worked: them and their pathetic attempts to connect. She'd tried forgetting everything she knew, everything that chained her down and just gone with the flow. There'd been a spark between them even at school, an ache he brought up, an ache she hated because it'd been betrayal to herself, to Brigitte. It shouldn't have been hard to hold one another and then have him fuck her senseless, leave her seeing stars – But it was; it was hard to get there and it was hard to get out when her orgasm dissolved. It wasn't worth it.

This was the time to go, she decided and glanced at the door behind him and let her eyes fall on his sleeping form afterwards. In retrospective, this was the point she should've walked out instead of looking at the boy beside her and realizing there was nothing outside that door.

It still didn't mean anything though; just her consummating the deal, putting an end to her own hunger with him because he happened to available. Ginger didn't grow attached to people, they weren't worthy of her attention unless they were giving her something in return: Something she could use, something she wanted. The boy in the bed fit in nicely, was just another selfish bastard for her to use. Before she hadn't had any respect for him, and now she had some, but it wasn't enough. Not enough for her to look skin-deep and admit there might be something there.

The fact remained that she hadn't jumped on this train entirely willingly though. He'd been shearing her to this by saving her, making her dependant on him and then locking her up in yet another dark room with him. She couldn't have helped it; the jolts climbing her arms, invading her insides had made her crave for it, for him. Some animal instinct in her was drawn to him, making her weak in the knees near him, so yeah, it had to be physical.

Well she didn't want his hands on her anymore, they felt like a cage, like cold bars separating her from freedom. He didn't own her, not because they'd fucked, or because he'd come to the rescue or paid for her food. By doing that, she could let him tear apart as many earlobes as he wanted to, but not cuddle against her like this.

Ginger moved, pulled his hand down from her front and incidentally awoke Jason. "Ginger?" he mumbled groggily, getting greeted by her low cursing voice right after. "Oh fuck me," Ginger mumbled, her expression shifting from distressed to irritate. "What?" He asked, fully opening his eyes now and seeking for her face in the dark.

"I'm bleeding again," she said, withdrawing from his side soon after. Jason pushed himself up from the bed to watch her go and caught the scent of blood all over the place just now. A river of blood ran down Ginger's inner thigh and the same red was all over the sheets too. Ginger grabbed a towel on her way into the bathroom and slammed the door closed after her.

There was something about this situation, Jason thought groggily. Kind of like a déjà vu.

She stepped right under the warm water, ignoring the heat when it turned too hot. She didn't dare look at her feet, where the bloody water pooled at before being drained out of the small space she'd occupied. Her hair was longer again, close to its original length but she couldn't feel joyous for that. She didn't feel like the Ginger that'd had that hair anymore.

The hot water embraced her face, tried so hard to wash away the sullen face but failing eventually. She tore the bandages from her stomach only now, casting her eyes on the ugly scar that dominated her abdominal area. She slid her hand over it, her nails tracing its surface. It was what she had left of Brigitte, proof of them falling apart. God she felt alone, didn't want to lean onto that jerk's shoulder for solace, but didn't really see anyone else who'd be even willing to look at her at this point. They were long past the point of no return.

Accept it or not, but this is the way the rest of your life is going to be; moving from one city to the other, holding onto Jason in the dark until the cycle began anew and everything seized being difficult for awhile. Was this what she'd been aiming at? Was this dark fairytale the thing she'd tried avoiding by talking about suicide and violence, and feeding her ever-growing misanthropy?

Either way, she couldn't stand under the running water forever: Play dead and hope he didn't come in to check her pulse. Ginger grabbed the water tap, and closed it with a sharp twist. She was left standing there, water escaping her skin, the distressing thoughts slowly dissolving back to the background. She tied the towel around her and got out.

Jason had dressed up meanwhile and cleaned up the bed, taken out the bloody sheets. He walked up to her the same instant, his hand landing over the side of her neck. Again he was so close; the touch forced her neck erect, stiff. "What're you thinking?" He asked, perhaps worried over his performance, or her reaction, or something else. She really didn't want to know.

"Having a blank moment," she replied evasively and sat on the bed's edge.

So Ginger wasn't exactly beaming in her afterglow, Jason noticed and suppressed the need to sigh deeply. He hadn't honestly expected it get easier here on now. Sure he could try beating sense into her but seeing her this way made him ache, in a bad way never the less. Like he was actually sympathetic, could tell she was broken. The old Jason wouldn't have given a shit, just left her to converse the angst with her sister since the two had been best friends. Guess now it meant he'd have fill in that role as well.

"That's great. You think you could attend the world of the living for a moment?" He noted sarcastically, already wishing she'd vanish from his sight for awhile, but since he had guarantees she'd come back if he let of out of his sight, he had to settle for shearing her along and ignoring her bitchy attitude.

Ginger turned her face at him, eyes clear from doubt or nausea and jaw line strict as she prepared to tell him off again. Jason saw this coming from miles away, so he wasn't exactly surprised of anything she went on to say.

"I don't wanna talk about it – Ever." She could certainly make her point clear; he realized and looked right into the abyss, finding that it wasn't such a scary place after all. "Fine," he said, and picked up the sheets from the bed again, then throwing them inside their bathroom.

He was okay with that? Ginger stared back, her skin breathing poison by now. Of course he was okay with everything. He'd gotten laid – again – and it meant that his master plan was working. Also he had a definite connection to his werewolf abilities whereas all she'd been able to do so far was to regenerate that fucking hole in her stomach. Overall the fucker was on the winning team no matter what she did. She hated him for doing this to her, for making her need him and yet already she couldn't even dream of leaving him behind.

She dug up her comb from the pocket of her jacket almost apathetically, unwilling to give the restless thoughts more room inside. Then she sat on the bed again, glanced at his back carefully, turning and touching the surface of the plastic comb in her hands. She shouldn't ask him, even thinking such felt like sacrilege, and yet she wanted it, needed it more than her false pride.

"Would you comb my hair?" Ginger asked, vulnerable, open. Her voice wiped the anger from Jason, made him turn to her and then take the comb from her hair with a silent nod as an answer to her request. She pulled the towel on tighter, moved her tangled her to hair back and waited for him to sit behind her, skin already sensitive to his touch.

He looked at her inviting neck, those messy red curls that made snake-like patterns against her skin. He could tell she hadn't wanted to ask but had anyway. The way she stood was almost like a surrendering pose, a humble one. Or maybe it was just that to his eyes that were always watchful for any signs of clemency in her. She didn't show him much of that side, always kept her armour in place.

Jason ran the comb through her moist hair. She'd already dried it on her towel somewhat, so it didn't drip water anymore and was only mildly cool in his hands. The comb got stuck in her hair for a few times and she made an angry remark, but didn't make him stop. Her mind was clearly elsewhere, she looked somewhat nostalgic. Maybe this was another task that'd once belonged to her sister.

And as if to confirm his doubts she sighed and tilted her head a bit. "We have to find her. She's so close, I can feel her."

Jealousy struck him with a tender hand, but he didn't voice those thoughts. She'd understand eventually, see that he was all she had left and that finding Brigitte wouldn't change a thing. And she would cry and scream and he would tell her these truths he'd seen way before she had. She'd understand eventually. She'd have to.

Upon finishing his work he handed her the comb back and she took silently. He'd already gotten up and walked a few steps when she finally voiced her gratitude. "Thanks," Ginger mumbled, like she had a tumour in her throat that kept her from saying most of the words he needed to hear. It was good to hear this though; it meant she'd been listening to him after all.

"Hungry?" He asked, picking up the key to the room from the table and then his jacket from the floor.

"Yeah," she admitted, looking back at him with dull eyes that proved how peckish she had to have been by now.

Jason nodded, pulling his jacket on now. "I'll go get something," he promised, bracing himself to the cold waiting outside. It was almost too silent in this room, too ethereal. The heavy morning wasn't as hot and sultry as it'd been when he'd woken up. He was at the door when he looked at her again and asked, "Need anything else?"

Ginger just stared at her own toenails, disconnected for awhile. "I'm gonna need some rags," she confessed eventually, not exactly willing to converse this subject with him. Then again, she was talking to the same guy that'd told her to take the edge of her cramps with a good tonk. He'd already been a bit too knowledgeable back then.

A smirk crept across Jason's face at this point and he walked behind her. "Considering you don't have any underwear, shouldn't I buy tampons?" The way he said it just made her skin crawl, like he really wasn't talking about tampons or anything related. Ginger swallowed up her excuses and just hissed an angry "Whatever" at him.

Jason recognized the withdrawn tone of voice though; it was embarrassed, humiliated. Now wasn't this surprising? "You have used them before, right?"

"No. I haven't." She'd kill him for this. Slam him on the bed and claw his face off. Maybe she'd enjoy eating him in a few weeks if he hadn't gotten too rotten by then. Ginger enjoyed that mental image, but was forced right back to reality when Jason lifted his knee on the bed and leaned over it to bring his face by her neck again. "It's okay," he said, like the sly devil she'd never taken him for. "I can show you how."

She hit him with her elbow without even thinking it further. The pain never made him stop but seeing him engulfed in it, hearing the wailing noises, sure made her feel better. "You don't need to do that," she answered coldly.

Whoa, icy! Now that was really a low blow considering she'd had nothing against him touching her like that last night. Then again, her memory always seemed to fall short when it came to these kinds of situations. Suddenly she hadn't just kept him awake for hours out of her own free will, or tagged along in the first place for the same reason. Like a cornered animal, she really thought hostility was called for. "Whatever you say, Fitz."

He retreated, made his way to the door again. She raised her voice before he had the chance to flee through the door. "Jason?"

He only stopped because she hadn't called him by his last name, or with some insulting title. She'd called him Jason, just… Jason. "Yeah?"

"Bring me something to shave with too?"

\- Now that you could almost call a sincere tone of voice. He'd have to memorize it, because something said he wouldn't be hearing a lot of it in the future.

TBC


	9. Disturbed

He was taking longer than she'd expected. A little walk to a shop around the corner shouldn't take hours. Had he fled, taken off without a word upon realizing what a lost cause she was? How fucked up everything was with Ginger Fitzgerald in your world? But she didn't want him to leave, didn't want to lose the last familiar face she could still look upon and recognize in an unfamiliar world.

She sat on the edge of the bed, watchfully listening to the sounds outside, hoping to hear his approach. Everything seemed so futile. They weren't any closer to finding Brigitte, or even getting rest. Every day was the start of a new fight, new problems, and the old desire. Soon they'd be out of money, forced to get some by shady means and it didn't even bother her.

Ginger didn't want to live the rest of her life in different hotel rooms, looking at Jason with changing amounts of lust and hate. There was nothing exciting about this, the weight of the situation forced her lungs to collapse and made breathing difficult. She couldn't anticipate what came next, couldn't read him as easily as he seemed to read her. Sure he was drawn to her, definitely wanted to close her inside his fist and keep her there, but there was something more: A kindness when he took care of her and made sure she didn't lack anything he could give her. He did it with an attitude but the affinity was there.

The key turned in the lock of the door, making her turn her head towards her arriving companion, who already stood by the door with a sullen expression in a few seconds time. His head was still bald, the regeneration hadn't begun yet. He'd changed his clothes though, gotten something more fitting for him to wear. When he entered the room he brought a cloud of smoke alongside with him, filling her senses with the lovely stench of tobacco. He looked too grim, too contemplative.

Ginger evaded the approaching disaster that every cell in her body was warning her of by getting up and reaching for the plastic bag he was holding in one hand. She got closer to him than she would've liked, her steps reaching farther than she'd expected and she froze as their chests touched when she grasped the bag. She glanced at his face that was stripped from emotion, left blank. Her breath was heavy, her lip instantly slid between her teeth and tongue as she sucked it nervously.

It was the same feeling as last night; the restless in him was almost violent. As if to save herself at least she yanked the bag from his hold and pulled away, conjuring up a relaxed expression her face.

"I'm starved! Did you bring something to eat?" As light as her voice was, it failed to deceive him, failed to keep him from seeing how she sensed the change in him. Jason didn't know whether he wanted to hold her or strangle her like the cruel little bitch she was, so he stood still by the door, letting the cold outside air to invade the room.

She sat down on the bed, brought the bag to her lap and went through everything. She buried her accusations and the doubts she had so deep that he couldn't possibly see any of them. He should be talking by now, speaking his usual bullshit nonsense that she could scoff at, but he wasn't. Something was seriously wrong about him; there was a presence eating him up, almost like it was time for the wolf to emerge again. Ginger didn't dare to turn to him, she felt safer with her back at him.

She'd found the panties and rags by the time he closed the door. The stream of cold air stopped and warmth returned to the room. Ginger pushed off her jeans without further notice and pulled on the underwear, attaching the rag onto them while at it. He watched her do it, smelled the blood like it was a word she'd spoken. And still he couldn't move, couldn't forget about the vicious words that'd made him feel so small, so unimportant. He was at his limits, and she didn't seem to realize why.

Ginger got her jeans back on, and continued searching the insides of the bag. He'd brought barbequed chicken with him, albeit a cold one. She also noticed the condoms, but didn't respond to them in any particular way. There was a razor too, she instantly took it in her hand and half-smirked lazily. When she looked at him though, the smile vanished at an instant and she felt something cold move inside her. What was more wrong than usually? Why the fuck was he looking at her like that!

Jason moved finally, brought his exhausted self to the bed and sat down next to her, avoiding looking at her puzzled face. "I need to ask you something and I want you to tell me the truth." His voice was thick with tension, contained anger.

"Oh great…" she mumbled, submitting unwillingly to this new game he'd come up with. Whatever it was, she was sure he'd picked something that'd make her lose it.

"Can you do that?" he asked, his hand sliding over hers, closing it inside as if he sought to hold onto her almost possessively. He looked pained. What'd she done to torture him now?

"Give it your best shot." Not more resistance. If he spoke, maybe she could smack that bitch down and get rid of whatever was troubling him. He didn't speak at first, just ran his thumb across her hand absent-mindedly and stared away from her. Then he shifted a bit, became stiff and motionless.

"Did you have a crush on Trina Sinclair?"

"What the fuck!" She yelped and jumped up without wanting to realize just what he'd just asked. The mere thought was wrong, ugly. What the fuck was wrong with him? Was he blind, had he been blind?

"Did you, or didn't you?" He repeated the question with irony resolve, forcing her to deal and answer. Had she wanted to ravish the girl and maul her exanimate? For revenge, yeah she had, but that had nothing to do with misguided hormones or a chemical addiction of the brain.

"No," she said sharply and made him make eye contact with her flaming eyes. "I could hardly stand the bitch!"

He got up took, straightened to his full height that matched hers brilliantly, brought them to an equal footing. She could tell instantly he wasn't buying it, that some stress vein on his temple was still throbbing on overlaps. He was taking this hard wasn't he? His confusion over her sexual preferences would've been fun to watch, if it hadn't been so fucking insulting. Trina Sinclair? Seriously, she had better taste than that!

"That's no proof." His face invaded her personal space when he inched closer while he spoke and eradicated her reasoning. "I can hardly stand you and yet here we are: One happy fucking family!" His voice was saturated with authority by now, like he was done taking her shit and lies and would make her pay dearly if she opposed to him now. Yeah well, she was telling the truth this time. She wasn't that homicidal after all.

She didn't move back, just stayed right where she stood and stare directly at him. Like the wuss even knew anything; he was probably blind from jerking off by now, which could explain why he went on and on with this stupid fixed idea of his. Ginger actually growled at him, starting to regain her edge.

"I hated her," she clarified, putting weight on the hatred between her and the bimbo. "And I wish to God I'd buried her sooner."

Jason didn't relax though, no, he seemed even more vexed and tired. What, was there more of this bullshit? Ginger thought of forcing him silent but figured he might've just gone all freak without a leash mode on her in that case. She wasn't too eager to see if the sex had made him regret his earlier promise any.

"What about Brigitte?" He asked; the turmoil visible on his face. Ginger frowned. "She's my sister, I love her," she answered out of habit and watched him clench his teeth together and grimace in agony like he couldn't get what he wanted out of her. She even noticed his teeth were starting to look pointy. Oh fuck.

"She was your sister," he clarified, weighting the words like they were essential in his train of thought. She was beginning to fear what he'd come up with during his little break. Too much thinking had to be rotting his fucking brain.

"Now she's hardly anything… or is she?" His eyes were on her, alert and full of something primal. She knew this Jason from before. It was the same one that'd carried her away from the woods, promised her salvation if she'd become his pack. She knew him and she feared and respected him – just not enough to let this slide now that he was about to insult her with this.

"What're you implying McCardy?" She didn't back down an inch; no, she pushed onwards, meeting his aggression with her own strength. She felt stronger, full of power that was just waiting to be unleashed. She could take him if she wanted to. Bring him down and make him fucking regret ever saying a bad word to her.

He could hear those words again, the mischief and cruelty in them resounded in his ears. That mockery she'd showered him with was tormenting him. The beast inside was angry, so fucking angry, and jealous. "Did you fuck her? Did you want to?"

She grabbed the collar of his shirt, holding it tight in her grip that made her hands turn white. The storm in her eyes was as beautiful as it was terrifying. "You're one sick fuck!" She screamed, too tired to believe he'd actually said that. Actually implied that she'd touched her sister, that she could've ever…

He tore her hands from his shirt, pushed her back just enough to get a breather. "You think I had much caring for my sister?" He asked his voice unnecessarily loud and offended. He sounded really hurt, guilty. "No, she was just a meal."

She stared at him, fazed by the revelation he'd just given her. He'd killed her? He'd killed his own sister?

"Hardly like Brigitte who got close enough to stab you." He really believed it, didn't he? That she could've tainted Brigitte like that? Used her for fleeting pleasure? No… No!

"I never touched her and I never would've!" Oh she was irate; she wanted to rip his torso apart just for suggesting such. All she'd wanted was for them to be together. His mind was twisted for thinking anything else!

Jason moved closer again, almost pathetic in his appearance when his face finally softened. "Tell me the truth now, Ginger," he begged, desperate to be rid of those thoughts, that venom in his head. She was his for god's sake; Brigitte wasn't here, she'd stabbed her and ran! He was the one who'd saved her, been there for her. He wouldn't let that ghost come between them, he couldn't allow it.

His fingers reached for her cheek, she shifted to flee his touch, didn't want him complicating a simple matter by bewitching her with intimacy. He just felt the rejection, the hatred she felt for him – it was all further proof for his brain. "You weren't that interested in guys were you?"

Maybe she hadn't been, but she had let him get to her. She'd let him bring them both here: under this roof, under this confusion.

"You used me to replace someone. You're still using me to replace someone!" He screamed it aloud, threw his hands on both sides of her head and held tightly. She wouldn't escape; she'd answer this right now!

She felt kinda dizzy, could hear her blood rush across her body. His angry face was almost distant for a moment. She didn't realize there was blood coming out of her nose, staining her face. "Oh I wish to God I was!"

The pressure inside her head went down, his hands landed on her shoulders. The noises diminished and she blinked rapidly to clear her out of this muddleheaded state. She tasted blood in her mouth; his hands were trying to clean it from her face. She'd felt like fainting for a moment there, but now everything was calmer. Even the anger was gone back to being mere crankiness.

Jason felt like an asshole and a pioneer at the same time. She hadn't lied, or jumped him with the rage she'd been sizzling with unsheathed. The voice was lying, fucking bitch, trying to drive him insane as it was. All he felt was relief, because that lie had been too hideous to bear. To lose her when the battle hadn't even begun… he really wanted to win; make it good, make it worth the shit they'd had to swallow.

"I hate you," she whispered, her bitchy eyes reflecting his impaled image as it was in her morbid fantasies. Yet they didn't move apart. "You're all I have."

All she had? It was enough for now. Everyone else was gone, she even cursed their ghosts. He wished he could get rid of his that easily too. Jason glanced at the door, the space there that was empty to Ginger's eyes, but that withheld another venomous red haired bitch in his eyes. The source of his delusions, the voice that wanted to bring him dismay – she was from Hell. He then tore his eyes away from the non-existent Ginger and looked at the real deal again.

Her eyes were red and there was blood still all across her lips and face. A vision of disorder she was, and yet so enthralling. Not like the ghastly version in his head. Was there really anyway to get things right between them? Live a day without quarrelling and bitching? He had no clue.

Jason was contemplative and the dark aura was gone again. Good, she didn't ever want to discuss their last topic again. She wanted to bury it alongside with all the memories where she'd called Brigitte sister and actually had to bare with Trina's existence.

"I'm tired," he said, his face bearing marks of exhaustion. She nodded.

"We don't have much money left," he continued and glanced at the bag again. "We take what we need tonight, then skip town. This place doesn't feel… safe."

No, it didn't and yeah, hunting was a good idea. There was nothing to make her forget today like good violence. She checked his teeth again, finding them normal. The cycle evaluation was beginning to sound thin if Jason could manifest small aspects when his moods went out of control. It had to mean she was capable of that too, and that it might be possible to change at will.

"I'm in," Ginger answered and withdrew, walking to her bed and laying on it, her back at him. He watched her find a suitable position before settling on his own bed. He kicked the bag on the floor and stared at the ceiling.

It was cold when she didn't lie beside him.

TBC


	10. Hunters

The cringing sound of the chains that held her swing in the air was the only thing that kept her from spacing out. It was evening already; the lovely dark had landed and with it an unspoken truce between her and Jason. She'd never felt as insulted as she'd been during the day when he'd hit her with the big question. Every time she took a hidden peek at him through the veil of her hair, she remembered his words, those accusations she couldn't stomach even now. They swam around endlessly in her mind, seeking for something to tear them apart and constantly failing.

Was it really how they'd looked to people? As crazy hermit sisters who had some kind of sick incestuous love affair going on? Trina sure would've wished it was that, but that everyone saw them that way? Ginger didn't know why she was so insulted, especially when she didn't care two fucks about the public opinion. Was it his opinion then or the fear that he might've been right? No, he wasn't! No matter how twisted the beast was, how much blood had been spilled, her mind had been clear about one thing; Brigitte was her sister, her flesh and blood.

The strong wind brushed Ginger's red hair off her face, revealing her disillusioned expression to her companion, who'd placed himself over a similar swing sluggishly and kept sucking his cigarette nonchalantly. There was a small pile of cigarette butts by his feet, they'd been here for a few hours, just sitting and staring at anything but each other blankly. It wasn't quite awkward, nor was there any kind of pressing tension in the air that'd have kept them apart. No, both were too lost in their own messy worlds to interact and it was rather relaxing for a change.

Jason hadn't been able to figure out what the fuck the fake Ginger really was and why he kept seeing that leering bitch everywhere since they'd come to town. Was he starting to lose it and more importantly, why the fuck didn't she have imaginary friends breathing down her neck if it was the curse's fault? Everything had gotten complicated suddenly, his ideal plan for them had crumbled so quickly and left both of them behind drained.

And now they were contemplating whether they had it in them to kill people for the purpose of robbing them. Both had done it before: Ginger at the school and Jason at least when he'd acquired her some clothing. Those times they hadn't been too lucid, the beast had been in control, erased right and wrong from their minds, practically moved their bodies by itself. This was different. Both were clear-headed now, they knew what they were doing.

"It's not gonna get any better now," Jason finally spoke, claiming her attention rather cruelly. He was claiming nothing mattered anymore. Did Ginger believe that too? She sighed in defeat. "I guess not."

Good girl, she was seeing the dilemma from his point of view for a change. Jason was glad he didn't need to argue about everything. They'd both had enough of that for the day.

Ginger turned to look at him, at that bald head, that decisive expression. In her head she could call him thousands of names and cut him down every day but the truth remained that he made everything easy in a complicated world. Jason took care of her, adorned her secretly for sure. He seemed so different from before. Sure the jackass was still in him but what caught her attention now was the cold leader that got their decisions made and still had enough emotion in him to get jealous over her.

She'd never thought what it was she wanted from a guy. The recent years had gone in plotting her own suicide, fulfilling the obsession with being an outsider in the world, doing something different. All she'd had was Brigitte. Then the curse had fucked her up, made her into one crazy chick – crazy enough to jump him at least. And here they were: two fucked up wolves with their dysfunctional pack, getting ready for their first real hunt.

Was it wrong for her to feel excited about this? To forgive him so easily and yet not forget a word he'd said? Ginger didn't know the answer. She wasn't an expert in deciphering asshole behaviour, and she was used to being angry for a long time for the slightest mistakes. And yet the more she thought about it, the more she was willing to let it slide for now because somehow she knew she couldn't expect much from the twit.

"Hey!" Jason growled at her, his face suddenly appearing above her when she lifted her eyes from the ground. He seemed rougher, void from his usual jerk smirk and easy-going tone of voice. Instead he looked like he was pressing his teeth together, trying to hold back something: maybe a teasing compliment, maybe his hand that wanted to reach for her hair. Apparently her keeper was making an effort not to make her feel uncomfortable. Least that was something…

Ginger moved to a better position, spreading her legs on his sides and leaning closer to him. "Any bright ideas, McCardy?"

Whenever the mood stroke she could make him weak and embarrassingly aware of his weakness with just a few words: a simple gesture, a touch. Ginger knew about this power she wielded and didn't hesitate to use it as a smokescreen for her own weak moments. She turned her pain at him, made he suffered instead and seemed sated by the act, settled to watch him squirm. Too bad he wanted her, couldn't stop himself from grabbing the fucking carrot she kept waving in front of his face.

Jason didn't avert his eyes though; no he kept colliding with her gaze, landed his hands on her thighs and made her think for a moment was she was trying to say here. It only took a short moment of them like this to kill the flame and the flirt on her cocky face. They both knew it'd been pretty clearly established that the heat only left them miserable behind. The promise was sweet but it never delivered.

The next thing she knew was that something jerked the swing beneath her, made her lose balance and fall to the ground her hip first. Ginger groaned in pain, irritated and pissed off, but more at herself than him. She stared back at Jason above her, watched him stand there stoically as if he hadn't pushed the swing off balance to give her another lesson. He was on a dangerous mood again, didn't want to be teased that way - Too bad, because it seemed like her only weapon against him now.

The other Ginger beside him, the fake one as he'd come to realize, seemed to be enjoying herself. She was looking down at the real Ginger in mute admiration. "I still don't like you," she said bluntly. "I may fuck you, and make you scream in ecstasy, but anything else is beyond me."

Jason listened to the apparition bitterly, wanting nothing more than to block the message from his brain, but he couldn't. Lies or not, those words were based on the truth. He gave his hand for Ginger on the ground, waited for her to grab it and pulled her up. He didn't let go of her hand though, it lingered in his and he was afraid to let go. She yanked it free after awhile though, obviously thrown off by these mixed signals he kept giving.

"See now?" Fake Ginger approached him; her arms were like snakes around him. "Besides a warm body, you're just a voice in my head, a nuisance."

"Funny," Jason mumbled, "I thought that was you."

"What?" Ginger was suddenly facing her and this was the real deal, not the ghost that' neatly vanished into thin air again. Bitch, she never gave it a rest, did she? And now Ginger's shining eyes looked wide and empty, as if there wasn't a bitchy remark behind it all: Such pretty eyes.

"I'm getting hungry," he answered, giving it no further thought. The lie escaped his lips without much trouble and she seemed to buy it easily. Her typical superior glare returned to her face. "Thanks for sharing," she muttered in annoyance, making it very clear that she just couldn't care less.

"We get this thing done quickly; I can still get some food before the whole fucking place closes up for the night," Jason responded quickly, feeling the need to get that look off her face. He wasn't exactly enthusiastic with her taking the higher ground all the time like she was some freaking Buddha. Stupid bitch.

Ginger stared back dryly. In just a few seconds he'd turned back to the ape man that cared for nothing but sex, cigarettes and food. She settled to roll her eyes at him in a despising manner and moved past him, to finally get the fuck away from this stupid little remote playground and back to civilization where the noise would cover most of his unappealing qualities.

Jason scanned for fake Ginger one more time and followed the real one then, unable to miss her quiet glares of disgust. She was impossible, even more than her venomous counterpart. But, the little voice in his head said, you love her more this way. Having her on her knees wouldn't be half as exciting, now would it? No, he smirked to himself. He'd get her to turn around, to see him in different light, and learn some respect: some fucking admiration.

But love her? Jason almost froze in his steps, realizing how his thoughts had given his obsession for her a whole new meaning. Did he love her? Hell no, he just…

"Are you coming or not?" She asked upon deciding he wasn't walking fast enough. She felt pleased when he gave no reply but quickened his paste anyway, just because she'd pointed out how slow he was. She was powerful when it came to Jason. She had the upper hand, because despite everything Jason was the one who wanted to keep her near. Jason had saved her and mended her, even wooed her in his pathetic way, succeeding in appearing frightening.

Jason wanted her and she could use it. She could keep herself afloat with that as long as the fucker never forgot what he wanted her for. He'd act nice if she wasn't too aggressive. He'd polish the fucking floor she walked on if she played her cards right. No more talk about finding Brigitte – just action.

Jason closed his hand around her forearm gently and she felt a shiver run across her body, ignoring it quickly though. Her boy was back in line, submissive and contemplative in his approach, trying to think of ways he wouldn't step on her toes. All of this freaky shit before was erased from both their minds – good, because that'd been too twisted for her to bear think. Everything was under control, Ginger thought amused.

Everything was fucked, Jason found himself thinking, as he scanned the area for fake Ginger once again. He was afraid of the delusion, the way it spoke as if it had a clue about what was going on inside Ginger's head. He was sure it didn't, because even if Ginger didn't respect him, she was grateful. She leaned onto him for support, expected him to stay with her, help her find her traitorous sister and live. It was his wishes that fucked everything up.

"Of course it is," Ginger's haunting voice said behind her still lips, leaving Jason convinced that the real one wasn't speaking to him right now. And yeah, in the corner of his eye, that mocking smile decorating her lips stood the imaginary Ginger once again. She wasn't going anywhere was she? Jason cursed quietly, wishing he had the power to close that Ginger within his fists and crush her to death. It just wasn't happening.

"If you didn't want me and keep begging for me, we'd do fine. No fits of passionate jealousy, no post-sex remorse, no uncomfortable moments. But you seem to want me too much to care. You'd rather drown in shit than abandon me and that, my dear, makes you a love fool."

He tried focusing on the stones by the boardwalk, the streetlights, ads on windows and doors – anything as long as it wasn't the imaginary voice and the gospel it was preaching. This Ginger loved to talk you dizzy, fill your mind with all sorts of fun little details that sounded way too real to be ignored. She knew how to hit where it hurt. She just added fuel for the fire he and the real deal were more than able to ignite themselves.

Jason was almost too quiet, that fucking irritating look on his face again, like he was listening to something or aware of a secret she had no clue about. He looked ready to tear arms off strangers and slam the bodies of innocent by-passers to the asphalt. Something primal was moving him, coursing through his veins. He was alive, where she was cold and numb and unable to reach that something she knew lurked in the dark.

Jason had embraced his second nature differently even from the beginning, hadn't he? It was like he'd merged with the wolf on a level she hadn't or something. The thought bothered Ginger somewhat. She'd been first, not him! Why was he able to use his werewolf abilities so easily, where she had to struggle to even regenerate? It wasn't fair!

Suddenly his grip on her forearm tightened and their eyes met instantly. Hers were questioning, his provided an answer as he nodded towards the distance where a fine specimen of prey was waiting. She noticed the young woman was staggering instantly and accepted the target without doubt. If he led she followed, Ginger noticed to her own annoyance, enjoying the feeling of safety she had with him however. She knew from before that Jason, no matter what form he was in, made her feel safe in tight spots. Silly perhaps, but she couldn't convince herself otherwise.

All of Jason's doubts vanished in an instant. The evil siren's voice that tried to seduce him away from his path vanished into the static as his chosen prey became his focus. His body responded, his blood ran faster in his veins, his mind was overlapping. He felt clearer-headed and ecstatic at the same time. She looked the same beside him, obviously sharing his rapture. He'd felt this way before though – that night with the campers had been a similar experience. His mind ascended with the hunt.

The apparition stood right before him, her hands rising as if to keep him from chasing that thought. "Jason, no," she said – or cried – her face finally hinting some emotion. She feared for him, for herself, but couldn't stop him with her ghost hands. All of it washed away from his mind as quickly as her plead had pierced it.

Ginger walked beside him, her whole being focused on a single intent: That girl, their prey, walking away in the distance. She yearned for the hotness of fresh blood on her hands, the scar on her side demanded for it: An offering to heal her completely, to diminish the memory failure from her mind. This time he'd be there to watch her back, hunt with her and make sure she wasn't stabbed by friendly hands.

She smiled at him viciously, seductively. His blood boiled and for once since he'd taken her by his side, his mind was at rest. This is the way it should be from now on: Them together as an unbreakable frontline for chaos. No discord or mistrust. Just them as they were remade: pack of wolves hunting. Jason smiled back at her.

And then – cut scene.

Everything returned roughly in a single jerking sensation that made his world quake. The place was different, the smell of outside air was long gone and replaced with the stuffy scent of decomposing walls and wet wood. Her face was twisting in agony before him but no sound came out until everything regained sound after a while and her wail broke his heart.

"Hush, Fitz," he said, quickly putting his hands on both sides of her neck and pulling her against his chest. Her cheek was covered in bleeding scratches and one eye was black and bloodshot. He ran his fingers through her bloody hair and hushed her, not even realizing that he too was bleeding. The hot sensation of blood against his hip merely calmed him down.

Ginger couldn't help sobbing. She'd come aware of place and time a little earlier than he had but her memory was an unsolved puzzle with the pieces spread all around and hidden, just as his was. They lurked in an abandoned house, both bleeding and beaten, and she didn't know why. All she knew was relief that he was still alive and she could hold onto him; expect him to carry her if it hurt too much to walk with her injured knee.

"You're bleeding," she finally regained her voice and moved her hand across his wet shirt that'd blackened with his blood. Something flashed in the back of her head, a piece of a memory where a knife met with his side and made him howl inhumanly. He'd stood there barely flinching beyond his howl and he'd seemed so mighty in her eyes.

"They hurt your pretty face," he said, stroking her cheek that wasn't cut. Jason's teeth weren't normal yet, nor were his shining eyes that had a hint of red in them. His face was full of beastly devotion towards her. She wondered whether he even felt any pain for his own injury.

The girl had ran, she remembered now, grimacing at her own stupidity for letting her claw her face as she'd pinched her at the wall. Broken screams had done no good for that one as she'd ran in the dark, dazzled by everything, by her two assaulters who'd come out of nowhere. Ginger had run after her, Jason had vanished into the dark. A moment later two lights had appeared into the distance, making her stop on her steps, as the girl had begun waving her hands erratically.

She might've been too chaotic to see that the light approached her way too hot, but Ginger had noticed that, ducking from sight and pressing her body against the ground. She'd pressed her eyes closed when she heard the girl's surprised voice yell and the sudden sound of the car breaks squealing. A loud thumb had resounded in her ears as the car had hit the girl and sent her flying against the asphalt. Her body had broken and life begun bleeding from her the moment she hit the asphalt and opened her dead eyes for one last breath.

The car had stopped and the three people inside had tried to make sense of what'd just happened: A bloodied girl appearing out of nowhere, yelling at them for help. Ginger had stared at them from the ground. They'd driven past her by a few meters, but her heart had still raced.

"Hey!" He yelled, slapping her blank face with the back of his hand. "Stay awake." Jason's voice was grave; he made sure she was still home when she looked back at him. It worried him how she was quiet and clearly thinking something unpleasant. Ginger looked frightened and most definitely stricken by the source of her fear.

She remembered how he'd come into view, suddenly leaned against the car door and asked the boys in the car to come and take a look at the girl. His sincere tone of voice, like he'd still been one of them, oh, she'd been able to imagine it fully. He'd lured one out of the car and they'd been followed by a second one as they went to see how bad the girl had been hit.

Ginger had moved then, slinked at the car in silence and opened the door, silently closing it behind her. A young drunken male, the third one of that party, had laid in the backseat unconscious and she'd taking the opportunity to pay him a closer visit. His wallet and phone had made their way to her pockets when she'd realized he was bleeding from his face, apparently having fallen on it earlier during the evening. That smell had teased her senses, and she'd taken a peek at the boys examining their road kill, but they'd been engrossed in their work.

He'd groaned underneath her when she'd straddled him. She'd quickly slid her hand on his mouth, and pulled his shirt from his pants, ripping the buttons open so that she had a view to his bare chest. Ginger had had an aching in her; it had made her lean across the boy's body and examine his frame. She'd licked the blood from his face carefully and as his eyes had flipped open, she'd merely smiled at him and petted the side of his head with her long talons.

His eyes had spread in both horror and pure carnal need right before she'd stabbed him to his gut with her hand. His power had fled from him and poured into her as she'd licked his blood from her fingers and cut her own tongue in the process. He'd wheezed his last breath through his lips and become limp faster than she'd wanted.

Ginger remembered straightening inside the car and seeing one figure approach her with speed. Her brain had quickly abandoned the thought of further enjoying her prey and she'd made effort to escape the car. She'd kicked the door open, only to be greeted by an unknown and enraged face outside the car. The driver hadn't wasted any time in dealing with shock; he'd simply grabbed her shirt collar and pulled her out of the car, landing a hit on her face as soon as her ass had met with the ground.

Behind him Jason had already made his move though, quickly twisting the neck of the boy next to him. The body had fallen beside him with a thump and he'd started moving towards the last boy. Ginger remembered the boy shouting obscenities at her, but she'd ignored everything, merely smirked and licked her bloodied lips, urging him to attack her while she was still weak on the ground. She'd gained a painful kick to her kneecap as a reward for her attitude. She'd seen him go for something inside his jacket next.

"Hey," Jason's calm voice had called to the boy, making him flip his head around. Jason's voice was stronger than usually, had more authority in it as well as a hint of threat. "That's my girl."

Ginger's body shook with the memory of the driver pulling out his knife and cutting Jason's side while ramming him. He tried to run for it, but Jason's barely flinched at the wound. His wolfish eyes had seemed amused with the boy's futile attempts as he'd grabbed his prey from the neck and thrown him against the car, his right hand hitting the boy's hand against the window so that he'd dropped his weapon.

She'd watched Jason and the boy from the ground, admired Jason's physique and intent. He was so pure, so free from her messy lust and the need to demolish. He just broke his victims apart like dry twigs, where she needed to soil them and feel the end of their lives in her hands. As if he'd sensed what she'd been thinking, his head had turned at her and he'd asked, "You okay?" whilst crushing the boy's neck inside his fist.

"Fuck it Ginger!" Jason yelled, shaking her body to make her live in this moment. "Stop going there!"

Beside him the ghost stood silently, with sorrowful eyes. "I told you no, Jason," she said, pleading to him. "I told you, you'd only hurt us."

Her last comment made Jason glance at fake Ginger, who was clearly overcome by emotions. "We're not ready to admit it, not even to ourselves!"

Ginger turned her eyes to him, his sulking face and almost morbid white and red eyes. His forehead was smoother than normally, his eyes looked as if they were deeper in the valleys between his cheek bones and eyebrows. She realized only now that her nose was bleeding again. She'd almost changed back there, whereas he was still changing. Ginger felt bemused by his sight and yet at the same time scared.

Her own bloodlust frightened her. It wasn't as clinical as Jason's. He just wanted them to die, like cattle, like prey. She wanted them to suffer, to fear, to want and not have. Her wolf was insane in its need to tear apart. All of this led to a small revelation on her part. She feared herself, didn't she? She feared what she became, because in that state she'd been willing to hurt even B. In that state she might hurt Jason.

She'd be alone and she fucking hated alone.

Ginger pressed herself tightly against Jason's chest, squeezed him as tightly as she could. "Don't leave me, Jason. Come back, please, come back."

A sincere request? Jason's eyebrows had vanished, but he'd have lifted them in surprise if he still had them. Suddenly he didn't want to be powerful enough to protect her and watch over her while she slept and recovered. He wanted to show his face to her, the human face she'd recognize, if it really was what she wanted to see. "Sure, Fitz," he said, the animal tone melting from his voice and bringing forth his human voice.

He lifted her from the ground and to the mattress he'd found in the corner. Her knee hurt badly, but otherwise her injury was small fry. Relieved, Jason laid himself behind her on the mattress and tied his hands around her protectively. Soon both were overcome by restless dreams of the race their lives had become, but neither was overcome by their nightmares, for both knew of the other's presence and knew they weren't hunting alone.

Not alone.

TBC


	11. No Future for You

Morning arrived wit heat and sweat and the smell of decay teasing her senses. Her knee felt numb and her face was decorated by yet another bruise given to her by a man. Locust, just worthless locust, is what they were all in her eyes – All but him and his devotion in this hell.

Ginger moved an inch and peeked at his sleeping form behind her back. He was back to normal now, still running the imaginary run in his sleep with his limbs twitching ever so lightly every now and then. The old Ginger would've laughed at this pathetic sight before her eyes, but the new one studied him instead, quickly relating this scene to the times when she'd woke up at night to shake Brigitte awake from a nightmare.

She turned around as discreetly as possible over the worn and smelly mattress and focused on his face. His facial muscles were tensed, his expression shifting between rage and fear and anxious sleep. Not quite knowing how, Ginger sat up and pulled him in her lap, stroking his hair calmingly and closing her eyes to imagine it wasn't him in her arms, but Brigitte. She could be kind to Brigitte without it being a weakness. It might've not been the kindest and truest way to look after him, but it was the only way Ginger knew how: Love him like she'd loved her sister and then maybe somehow balance the love and hateful banter and sweet desire some day.

Jason grew calmer, not as eager to run anymore. Instead he relaxed in her arms and finally seemed to slumber to a dreamless state more suitable for healing and mending. Ginger stroked his face with her hand, scrutinizing his changed appearance, hoping to find some key to the mystery he'd become. She was like a child, learning his face and shape, memorizing it so she may revisit this moment the next time the world would feel like falling on her and crushing her hope underneath the rubble.

The position they lay in felt comfortable, almost familiar. His warmth, her heartbeat – they were almost just one being instead of two entangled together. Then suddenly a wave of weakness passed through her and Ginger reached for the small cup on the night table, only to have her reaching hand be intercepted on its way. Jason woke and held her hand for a moment, as if searching his memory for answers. Then he let her hand go and reach the antibiotics he himself had stressed she should take.

"You're awake," she said, placing the pill between her lips and gathering saliva inside her mouth to swallow it. The pill left an ill taste in her mouth and she couldn't trace the trail with her tongue without feeling the urge to gag.

"Yeah," he replied, the exhaustion of their hunt very much alive even now that a day had passed since it. He'd carried them to safety twice now and was starting to feel that maybe they weren't safe here either.

Jason reached up with his hand, finding her forehead and feeling it with his hand. Her fever was down: good, maybe the antibiotics had helped. Not that he'd know even which ones to get, so he'd merely made a blind guess: A guess that had led to yet another death on their résumé. Jason comforted himself with the knowledge that the man had been as old as sin and had no one to look for him, so in his book this didn't bring them closer to exposure. However they did need a plan. This endless drifting wasn't working out. They needed to get smarter, more methodical.

Then was suddenly faced with a Ginger he wasn't sure he'd met before. She looked almost moony, like a tragic dreamer unaware of danger. She was beautiful even after the chaos had made a mess of her. Her hair was dirty and tangled and she had an ill odour about her, but then again, Jason himself wasn't too hot either. That night had drugged them like sweet alcohol and withdrawal had been long and painful. He had to wonder if things would get easier with time. Maybe they would adjust?

Or then this was all a sign that they were on the wrong road. It was easy to enjoy killing and crave for the sensations that came with having warm blood and guts all over your hands. It was easy to give into the violent beast inside and forget that he was a boy as well. In the end they weren't clever adults with a plan, but just two kids trying to survive in an insane situation. As much as Jason wanted to think they were in charge, he'd begun doubting that the wolf instinct was what drove them onwards. Would it one day betray him? Would someone realize it wasn't random but that all the bodies they'd left in their wake were footholds that helped them to continue surviving?

Ginger didn't want to look outside. The light had already blinded her couple of times and all she wanted was to stay inside ignorant of the outside world. She suspected there'd be news about them, about those boys they'd slaughtered. Someone was looking for them right now and they were defenceless. Jason had had to drag her here from the abandoned house to get drugs and heating and a shower. She'd feared someone would stop them the whole time he'd helped her walk for miles while burning with fever. Eventually he'd found a house, smelled sickness inside and fooled the old man to come outside before forcing him in and killing him.

These sheets belonged to a dead man in the basement. Unlike during their hunt she'd hadn't felt any urge to kill and had nearly thrown up when Jason had walked her past the body yesterday. He'd forced the pills down her throat and made her sleep and drink water all through yesterday. Now her system had somewhat recovered from the wounds and the nausea was gone as quickly as it had begun, but Ginger still wondered what this meant. She'd thought they were untouchable, immortal even. Instead the change and especially the return back to human felt like the worst kind of withdrawal symptoms. She'd been left weak in its wake.

Jason had crawled into bed with her last night, holding her still so she could sleep. Sex hadn't even entered her mind, which she found puzzling. After he'd come to sleep with her, she'd finally felt safe enough to fall asleep. This brought a memory to her mind from back when she'd searched for him in his wolf form and encountered him in the woods. Her presence had calmed him down enough for him to sleep and he hadn't even been in human form. Somehow there'd been this connection between them, a deeper understanding she hadn't understood, but was beginning to now. It was deeper than any relationship from her former life – even if she hated admitting it. It was like she responded to Jason subconsciously as well as consciously.

Ginger moved to rise from the bed, but turned to look at Jason, who still lay on the sweat-soaked mattress. "Is he still in the basement?" she asked, fearing that the stench of death would somehow push her right back into withdrawal and pain. She'd avoided looking at the house they'd inhabited or thinking about the life they'd taken in order to find shelter, but now her curiosity was starting to lift its head. Would anyone miss the old man Jason had killed?

Jason shook his head. "I buried him in the garden last night while you were still asleep," he explained, making her take notice of his dirty fingernails that same moment. She quickly realized he'd had an odour to him she hadn't recognized, but could now connect to dirt and moist outside air. Fear came in next.

"I sure hope you fucking buried him deep enough, McCardy, because if not, the neighbours are going to smell it," she snapped, also remembering her experience with grave digging: Trina. She hadn't thought about it as murder back then, just an accident, a mess that needed cleaning up. It'd been a game where Brigitte had been the unwilling participant and she the game master.

Jason chuckled at her, "You forget that you and I are slightly more sensitive to smell than your ordinary soccer mom."

He'd avoided taking insult of her snappy comment, knowing by now that it was just her usual tone and manner in which she spoke. He'd be more alarmed if she started being too nice to him all of the sudden. Knowing everything was in order, he lifted his hand over his eyes and blocked of the remainder of the light that penetrated into the room. His sleep hadn't exactly been quality rest, having to dig up graves and watch over Ginger, so he might as well replenish his health a bit. It's not like Ginger could get into trouble all by herself in a few hours.

Ginger took notice of Jason's obvious drowsiness and chose to leave him be for the being. She rose slowly from the bed and gathered her clothes from the floor. They were drenched in dried blood and the scent teased her nose, making her drop them right on the floor again. At least her underwear was moderately clean. She began walking downstairs and noticed that her whole body felt incredibly stiff. Overall she felt okay, but kind of loopy, like after a long illness, which wasn't even that far-fetched, seeing how she'd just been bedridden for a day. She decided breakfast would fix everything and that afterwards she'd go through the house for a new wardrobe. She just hoped gramps had good taste.

The walk downstairs felt like forever, seeing how her eyes kept following the long row of pictures on the wall. They all had the same person appear in them through-out his life: in some he was a young man, in others clearly an elderly man. There were no kids, or pets, just him and friends at curious locations celebrating the mundane. No award shows or remarkable achievements – just plain old life.

If Ginger had a wall like this she could imagine it being full of pictures depicting the exact opposite: how she'd done everything in her power to fulfil her dreams and do whatever the hell she wanted. Then again, as far as Bailey Downs knew, the only pictures on her wall would be the ones from her and Brigitte's suicide collection and as far as the world was concerned, Ginger Fitzgerald was a teen who'd vanished and most likely died one night. She'd probably become a town legend that teens would use to frighten their dates with:

The bitch probably killed herself, but the body was never found.

Eventually she was able to pull her eyes from the face of the man, whose life she'd inadvertently ended, and continue her way downstairs. Once down her senses were instantly overwhelmed by the ghost of the dead man's scent – both the scent of his body and his everyday live scent. It felt like a hit to the face, it was so clear that this house had been violated, for amid those two scents was also the scent of her and Jason and the illness they'd brought along with them. She could smell her own fever and injury in the air and as she closed her eyes, she could see Jason strike the old man down at his own doorstep as vividly as when it had happened. She could remember how the violence had merely watered her tongue.

Ginger fumbled towards the kitchen and forced herself to sit down while she felt a vile shiver pass through her. What kind of people killed defenceless old men in their own houses? What kind of people lived only as scavengers? She shook her head violently and hit her temple with her knuckle. She was beyond her sister's morality lessons, god damnit! Jason had done what had been needed in order to keep her safe and if he hadn't she could quite well be dead.

Yet the thought haunted her mind as she began searching the room for something to eat: As good as hunting felt, who was she to take the lives of good people? Ginger tried to convince herself that in the asphalt jungle it was every wolf for themselves, but somehow the argument couldn't wash away the ghastly sensation of being an intruder in someone's home or the knowledge of being at fault for the man's death. So why this one: why had this fucking guilt emerged only now? She'd gone on a killing rampage in Bailey Downs and this town as well, but none of her victims had even made her flinch. She'd killed good and bad people alike and felt nothing for them. The sad part was that this one wasn't even her kill.

Eventually when she found breakfast, everything tasted dull in her mouth and she could only munch on food while staring out of the window blankly. She didn't know how long she remained like that, wondering if there was any future or sense in this. She'd always imagined herself as someone willing to break free from society and its rules, but now that it was upon her it didn't feel so good. She couldn't deny the desire and fulfilment that came with killing, but had she not lingered at this place, she could've easily denied the guilt that came with it. Strangely enough Ginger thought about Jason, wondering if he could knock some sense into her after he woke up. The thought helped calm her raging mind eventually and she was able to let go of the thoughts that plagued her.

Ginger set out to examine the house they'd invaded. The living room, the kitchen and a guestroom were downstairs, when upstairs held a bedroom and a study. It wasn't that big a house, but rather compact. Most of the squares in the land seemed to be used to the backyard, which was barren at this time of year, but flourished in the pictures scattered around the house. It was apparently attended with care: flowers and plant life flourished and looked simply astonishing to the eye in those pictures. Maybe the old man had been a gardener and would rejoice in the sentiment that he would now become a part of it? …And she was beginning to sound daft. Stupid bitch! Like anyone would be doing any rejoicing once they were dead. There was nothing afterwards: no solace, no comfort and no acceptance. Without question Jason had killed him and caused him pain and nothing would erase that!

She moved out of the living room, unable to look outside anymore and be reminded of the beauty their victim had once created – beauty that would no doubt never resurface again without his presence. Instead Ginger found herself in the guest room going through all the different drawers and closets. Eventually she found what she was looking for and sighed with pleasure to mark her success: there were old clothes in one of the closet and they had apparently belonged to a female companion. Scrutiny quickly revealed that the old hag had been twice her size especially in the chest area and that she'd had terrible taste. However she found a few candidates for a shirt that might do after she cut out some ruffles and sleeves plus one skirt that didn't seem to belong with the rest, because it was a whole other size.

Ginger pulled on the woollen skirt she'd found and realized that it fit somewhat, despite still being a bit too big. She then took the candidates she'd picked and carried them to the study table, searching for scissors. Brigitte had been talented with the needle, always managing to make something cool out of old clothes and flea market dropouts. Neither had been that into shopping, so doing your own art out of old clothes had fit in well with their style. Every now and then they'd even accepted something Pam had made for them.

She realized she was holding the scissors in her shaking hand when the first tears filled her eyes. She'd never thought she'd miss that good-for-nothing old sewing machine or Pam's collection of awkward colour fabrics. It wasn't fair that she had had to leave everything behind! It wasn't fair that Brigitte hadn't gone with her! She released the scissors from her hand, fearing she might actually grip them too hard and cut herself as she cried.

Her weak legs gave in and she sat on the floor, trying to hold back the terror that filled her when she thought about these unfamiliar surroundings and compared them to the safety of their basement room. She didn't have a home anymore and neither did she have a family. All she had was Jason and they belong anywhere together. She had to be on the edge constantly because the future was uncertain and she was tired of it! These past few days had been horrible and there was nothing she could do to make it any better!

Even if she was somehow able to find Brigitte and hold onto her sister, Brigitte would shun her for sure. Ginger's hand moved to the spot the knife had stabbed and she felt the pain again as sharp as she had when her sister had stabbed her. To Brigitte she was a monster, something so vile that there was no Ginger left in her. Anger resurfaced in her. How could've Brigitte done this to her! Her sobbing sounds were the sound of weakness she longed to remove from herself, but couldn't – after all it was the only part of her that was still human.

Meanwhile Jason's dreams became anxious again as he drifted further into deep sleep. Everything was dark and cold and even the warmth of the sun felt cool here. And when he let his guard down, his mind wandered into the forbidden thoughts he'd struggled to deny.

His home had always been empty when he'd come home from school. Parents had been still at work, fighting for promotions and attention. He'd liked being alone though, because he hadn't cared much for his folks, they'd been just two distant people who came in with the groceries and left early in the morning, returning late in the afternoon. He'd minded when he was younger, but learned to numb it with weed eventually. He hadn't come straight after school for years now.

Josie had been a few years older than he was, working part time at a grocery store. She'd been gorgeous and blonde, always fashionable and popular. Her smile had been kind and despite their sibling quarrels, he'd actually liked spending time with her. She'd ask him about school, know the names of his friends, give him a ride, provide him with smokes and watch R-rated flicks with him at night. She'd also her virginity at 14 to a guy twice her age, sampled drugs and developed a habit of withstanding reality with a few drinks every night, or so he'd read in her diary.

He'd gotten along with his sister better than most, and they'd had an understanding backing up one another's lies. Occasionally she'd confided in him and every now and then he'd talked to her about things he didn't tell his friends about – stuff like Ginger Fitzgerald. Josie had told him to charm her confidence, lure her in with bribes. And when he'd admired Ginger's physique from afar, not even mildly curious about all the other girls around her, Josie had been able to guess just which one of them was the bitch consuming his thoughts.

He'd told her immediately after that night with Ginger that he'd been able to score. She'd smiled in her coy way and asked if scoring had been enough. To his surprise he'd realized that as amazing as sex with her had been, he couldn't quite think about anyone else but Ginger. And then the burning had started, and the pain and the blood in his urine. The change had begun like any other sex disease. Josie had told him to go to the doctor and placed a pack of condoms in his hand. He hadn't listened, he'd been furious at Ginger, since the bitch had obviously had someone before him, someone who'd given her this fucking disease.

He'd run across town looking for her, feeling the wolf crawl under his skin. His back had been covered in thick sweat and his mouth had been so dry, but he hadn't found her. When he'd finally gotten back home, he hadn't been able to stand the dog barking at him. One swift strike had taken care of that and he'd relished the moment he'd buried his face in the dog's insides. Everything had become a blur of violence and hunting. He'd tried to hurt Brigitte, still looking for Ginger with rage burning his insides.

And when he hadn't been able to focus at school, he'd run off back home. Josie had been there, tears in her eyes because she'd found the dog dead in the yard. She'd looked like a beautiful mess. Then she'd tried to hug him but he'd shunned her touch, only able to think about Ginger. Josie had shook his shoulders, god, he still remembered how it'd felt when she'd forced him to sit down, clearly noticing how distraught he'd been. She'd been sure he was infected with something serious, talked endlessly about taking him to the hospital. She'd breathed a curse about Ginger, sure that she was the one to blame for his condition.

His nails had dug into her wrist. He'd told her to drive him to Ginger's house. Tears had filled her eyes, but his grip had been strong. She'd screamed in pain as he'd dragged her behind him towards the door and suddenly she'd yanked him backwards. Both of them had fallen down, Josie struggling to get away from him and Jason gripping her foot. She'd kicked him and his nails had drawn her blood. Ah, the smell of blood had driven the last of his sanity away. He'd charged at her, biting at her shoulder. Her voice had vanished as she'd struggled to breathe, to push him off. A faint whisper had escaped her throat, begging for him to stop, but his nails had simply dug onto her middle furiously and the blood had pooled at his feet, slowly bleeding the life out of her. And while she'd still gasped her last breath of air, he'd bitten her throat open.

Confusion and sadness had only struck him later on, after Brigitte had injected him with the monkshood. Jason had stood in the living room, staring the body: at the most horrendous expression on the face of his dead sister. He'd thrown up, sobbing and shaking. He'd held her body close unable to understand anything. It'd been dark all over and no sign of his parents. He'd stayed there in the dark, hidden from all curious eyes, waiting to wake up from this nightmare whilst on the other side of town Ginger had laid in a pool of her own blood, also breathing her dying breath.

His restless dream still wouldn't end. It never did until he woke up. Time would freeze and he'd simply hold Josie in his arms, looking at Ginger standing above him, observing him with her cold eyes.

"We're not that different, are we now?" she'd say and smile.

All he'd had from there on was Ginger.

TBC


	12. For You

The following morning it was raining again. Jason laid on the bed, listening to noise upstairs. He'd slept all through the night and Ginger hadn't come upstairs again. She'd been crying downstairs, throwing things and cursing. He'd been too afraid to go and stand by her side while she'd cursed her fate and their current situation. The family she'd thought she had hated was burning a hole in her chest now that they weren't there anymore. Jason didn't know if he could replace them for her. He didn't know if he could take care of her.

His wolf instinct was to offer solace, but his rational mind spoke against it. He could smell the blood on his hands no matter how hard he'd scrubbed them after killing the old man. Jason was beginning to wonder if this was no way to live. Maybe it would've been better to just take Ginger from the shoulders and tell her to go home. Bailey Downs might've been a mess, but he was quite sure Ginger might've been able to talk herself through it. She was good at bullshit.

He was beginning to think he should let her go.

Were they building a future together on a pile of bodies, living in houses occupied with violence, feeding on food that was bought with stolen money? Or was this fallacy that couldn't go on much longer: A tower of cards that was bound to fall soon?

Jason couldn't go back, not after what he'd done to Josie. But maybe there was hope for Ginger? Maybe she would be able to find that peace she was seeking for, if she accepted the love and protection of her parents? She wasn't accepting any of that from him. During these long days they had killed loneliness together, but he didn't feel much closer to her than he had been before all of this madness had begun. The truth was, he'd been the victim of her carelessness and ignorance, and he'd wanted to punish her for it. His obsession with her was not something she desired, so perhaps the right thing to do would be to give it up?

He twisted and shifted his position on the bed, but didn't stay in any position for long. His heart was heavy and he knew nothing of the bliss love was supposed to give you. If he did right by her, would it change? Would he be able to forgive himself for the unforgivable? Could he leave his anger behind and stop this make-believe that he was a true killer at heart?

Another loud noise downstairs made him get up from bed and throw his shirt back on as well as his jeans. He took a look at himself in the mirror: he looked as battered as he felt. Truly like a heartbroken young man. Had she set her sights on him, just wishing to cause him pain? Jason withdrew from the mirror as he failed to connect the reflection on the mirror to the boy he'd been just a month ago. He'd matured by force. She refused such growth, insisting that she remain the same irresponsible young wench she'd been.

Jason walked down the stairs, finding Ginger leaning against a wall with the fragments of a plate at her feet. Her cheeks were flustered and covered in tears. She'd found some old clothes at the house to wear and they made her look older. Her lower lip was shaking and she just looked lost and angry. Jason made his decision.

"Leave it," he said when she moved to pick up the pieces. Ginger's eyes spotted him at the stairs and followed him while he descended them. She swallowed like she had a heavy lump in her throat and then nodded back. "Grab a jacket," Jason instructed and begun searching through the drawer by the front door. Puzzled Ginger wiped the tears from her eyes and took the nearest coat from the hanger. It covered her almost completely. Jason smiled absent-mindedly at this as he took the car keys from the drawer and pulled a coat on himself as well.

"We're leaving," he said, taking her hand in his and pulling her outside after him. It was a grey morning and he made sure there was no one outside before he stepped out of the house and walked to the garage. To Ginger the morning air felt like forgiveness. She loved its touch on her hot skin and its feel in her nostrils as she inhaled deep. The wolf inside had been sated and for the first time in days, she felt like she was girl rather than a freak.

Jason stepped into the garage, finding the old man's car inside. He didn't know much about cars unlike his peers, but he did have his learner's permit, so he'd driven one before. He was hoping the old thing had enough gas to get them where needed. Ginger walked around the car, giving it a puzzled look. Jason them opened the car door carefully, motioning her to get inside from the passenger side. Ginger followed his instructions and stepped inside to the car that filled her senses with lifetime's worth of memories and scents. She could tell the old man had loved this car and done his best to keep it in shape.

Jason felt the wheel beneath his hands and adjusted the seat so that it'd be as easy as possible to drive. Ginger went through the different compartments, as if looking for something. She then put on the radio and a quiet classic tune began playing when Jason ignited the engine. He cast a look on her and then at the garage door, to which Ginger sighed, defeated, and climbed out of the car to open the door. She stood outside in the rain, feeling the raindrops bounce off her jacket one by one, while Jason drove the car outside. Once he was all the way through, she closed the doors and walked back to the car.

They drove in silence, neither of them finding anything to say. Ginger didn't care where they were going; she was still paralyzed by the morbid experiences of the past few days. Her heartbeat was steady but tired of all the commotion. Strangely she put her trust in Jason almost instinctively. He wasn't the slacker she'd taken him for, but a good man in the making. Adjusting into new things was tough for her, but she was sure she could do it with his help.

Jason concentrated on the driving, realizing how rusty his skills were a few times when the gears wouldn't change and other teens would race past them with thundering noise. He stuck to the side roads, looking for signs every now and then to prove he was heading the right way. His heart was restless though, for Ginger's silence disturbed him. She always had something to say, be it good or bad, but this time she had retreated so far into her own world that he didn't know what to do with her. Was he supposed to ask her to tell him about it and listen? Did she even want to tell him? – Probably not.

At some point hunger began to make its way to his body, but he ignored it as weakness. Ginger hadn't complained yet, and neither would he. Eventually the small pain in his stomach simply subsided.

And then he saw a sign by the road and began to slow down after it. Ginger seemed to wake up from her lethargy and began looking around her nervously and then at Jason. As far as she could see, they were in the middle of nowhere.

When Jason brought the car to a complete halt at the side of the road, Ginger sat up and turned to him. "What the fuck, McCardy? We're in the middle of nowhere. Do you need to take a leak or something?" she asked with her familiar bitchy tone that killed off the tension between them somewhat.

Jason smiled a bit and opened her seat belt. "It's your stop, Fitz," he said almost gently. His tone surprised her and quite honestly frightened her. "What do you mean?" she asked, her face a portrait of disbelief and suspicion.

Jason looked at the wet road ahead and then at Ginger. "We're just a few miles off Bailey Downs, so you can just walk back from here."

Ginger froze completely, turning to her door slowly after and stepping outside to smell the air. He was right, they were right near the woods she'd spent all her life in. The smell of earth and trees was etched into her mind as the scent of her birthplace. Ginger shivered and held onto the open door of the car and her seat, unwilling to step away from the car.

"What are you doing?" she asked him, disillusioned and frightened and also somewhat pissed off. All the hairs on her neck and arms jumped up when she thought of the things that had sullied her memories of this place. It felt ghastly to be so close to the hell she'd cursed through-out her teenage years.

"I'm doing what's right," Jason answered, avoiding looking at her lithe frame and sad eyes. He knew she was shocked by this turn of events, but he couldn't make himself just drive away like he'd planned. It might've hurt less, but he wanted her to understand.

"And what would I even say?" Ginger asked, thinking of her mother and father and the countless others, whose inquiries she would have to answer. Even if people were gullible, the guilt would be written all over her face. She was responsible for countless deaths.

"Anything you want. You're pretty good at bullshit. You had me convinced," Jason mumbled, gripping the wheel in his frustration. The wolf inside was howling, telling him this was wrong. That he was making a mistake that he could never fix if she left now. Well maybe everything had been a mistake from the start.

Ginger sat down inside the car again, still bewildered. Then she shook her head, trying to grasp his intent. "What the hell McCardy!" she snapped at him and hit his shoulder, forcing him to defend himself and grab her hand in his grip. This brought them face to face. There was a different kind of anger in her now and fierceness he hadn't witnessed before.

"You're going to leave me as well!" Her accusation hurt him, but he kept his ground and let go of her hand.

"You're not happy stuck with me Fitz. I'd rather let you be happy than drag you along in a journey that has no future," he claimed, having finally realized that their fruitless union resembled some bad road trip movie by Tarantino. It wasn't the solution to their condition. It was about avoiding the issue. One day such recklessness would have its results. He wanted something better for her.

Ginger listened to him express his pain and insecurity with mixed feelings. Why did he care so much? What had she done to deserve it? – Nothing, absolutely nothing.

"Shut up you stupid fuck!" Her hand connected with his cheek and the slap burned his skin as much as her piercing eyes. Jason simply had to restrain her hands again and bring himself closer to her in the process.

"You really think this is the answer? That you can just leave me here? We ran because it isn't safe here for us and the only reason to walk back in would be to give up and give in," Ginger complained, biting her teeth together, fighting her overwhelming emotions. She was a realist. She'd cried last night, because it'd been then that she had realized there was no going back to the way things had been. She'd cried because she'd known Jason would stand by her no matter what. Well guess that had been a load of bullshit.

"I'm not going back unless you're coming with me," Ginger said as stubborn as always, but this time her words were stuck in Jason's ears, playing in endless repeats. "What?" he asked completely lost in the raging ocean of her constant mood swings. A few days ago, she would've given anything to be rid of him.

"We're in this together, McCardy," she vowed, truly meaning her words. Companions in crime, a pack – that's what he was to her and more. Even if she went back and served her time there was no going back to the mundane everyday life of a small town as Ginger Fitzgerald. She was someone else now.

Ginger leaned even closer, her warm breath tickling his face before she kissed him. He released her hands quickly to take her closer into his arms and she brought her fingers on his face. Jason's resolve melted in her kiss. The experience was sweet and he almost felt loved – this was nothing like the kisses before. She'd always touched him out of lust, instead of appreciation.

When their lips parted, Ginger leaned her forehead into his and whispered, "I'm not going anywhere."

"No," Jason said and shook his head. "I'm doing this for you. Your family cares about you and maybe they'll even run for you. It's a better road than sticking with me." He pushed her away, trying to lock the emotions she stirred in him in a dark place inside his head.

"And your family wouldn't do the same for you?" Ginger questioned his logic, tilting her head to reach his eyes with hers. There was annoyance and refreshing worry in her demeanour. Yet her words stung him. He knew he could never go home.

"I killed my sister, Fitz," he reminded her, his voice dripping guilt all over. He'd avoided talking about it for so long. He hadn't even allowed himself to think about it. His animal instincts had overrun everything. His blind lust for Ginger had been more important than the welfare of his sibling. And then she'd already been dead. The memories haunted his nightmares.

Ginger didn't have words for Jason. Of course she knew about it; he'd told her in the midst of a fight, but she hadn't really given it thought. So had he been clinging onto her so hard in the beginning, because he had no way of dealing with what he'd become? Had he held onto her as some sort of justification for his actions?

"I know. I know, Jason." Ginger put her hands on his neck and stroked his skin with her fingers. "I lost Brigitte too, but I'm not losing anyone else. I'm going to stay with you and shut your mouth."

His breathing was growing restless and seconds later he withdrew from her and stepped out of the car for a breath of fresh air. His skin felt hot and wolf purred like a cat, so satisfied with the way Ginger had turned out. He couldn't make sense of this. So she just changed her mind overnight?

Ginger stepped out of the opposite door, leaning over the roof of the car to look at him. She was calmer than he had expected. Once the initial rage over his decision had died and she'd made her choice, all that negative energy she'd harboured was gone. Was it because this time she'd made the choice to be with him herself? When he'd saved her, he'd dragged her with him by force, never really giving her a chance to consider her options. So serenity came through the simple truth of being in control of one's destiny?

She brushed the hair from her face. "You're not going to hurt me McCardy. Remember when you woke up in the woods? You embraced me while you were a wolf and came to me and there was nothing hostile present that night."

Jason listened in silence. He barely remembered that night, but he did remember the countless other times she'd nearly pushed him over the edge. Could he help his nature?

"You really think I chose you by accident?" Ginger asked, finally preparing to confess something she'd only realized awhile ago. "I was confused and horny and lusting for blood, but I didn't feel any better around anyone else. I felt calm when I was with you."

He looked at her over the roof of the car. She wasn't lying.

"So I'm not another piece of meat to you?" he asked, half joking. Ginger grinned for the first time today and shook her head. "I like my meat with plenty of salt," she threw back. To look at him while he was so relaxed made her wolf howl.

"Get in the car," Jason sighed in defeat and opened his car door. Ginger happily obliged and sat down, closing the door behind her. For a fleeting moment she looked at the road ahead that led to Bailey Downs and thought about her sister. Brigitte would fight her wolf until the bitter end, rather dying that giving in. Her betrayal stung Ginger, but she didn't feel the urge to find her so desperately anymore. Maybe she needed time to gather the pieces of her own life before she could confront the person, who'd once been her world?

"She's not stupid," Jason said, sensing what Ginger was thinking. "She'll be fine until we find her."

"No, she'll be fine until we find ourselves," Ginger said, glaring into the distance with a defeated look. Then she turned her gaze to Jason. Ginger peeled the jacket off her back and lifted her leg over the gearstick and handbrake. She quickly positioned herself on his lap and proceeded to kiss him again.

Warmth spread all over Jason. "You realize that after this I'll never let you go, right?" he asked, stroking her hair with his fingers. Ginger kissed him again, relishing the familiar taste of his mouth. "Shut up," she mumbled between her teeth as she pecked his lower lip gently.

TBC


	13. Two Against the World

It's freezing out here, especially in this part of the country, at this time of year. Snow on the ground reflects the light, making it brighter here than in the places they usually occupy; places where even the full moon can't give light to their deeds in the heart of the night. Strangely it doesn't make either of them feel too exposed, despite their habit of hiding in the dark.

It's been four years since they became entangled unwittingly. It's only now that they've finally found her.

Ginger stands on the street, her long boots so worn that they don't even keep the cold out. Her skirt is short and her tights don't look like they help with the cold either. Only her leather jacket looks like it can resist the attacks of nature. She stands with her hands tucked inside her pockets, her face decorated by a scar and a sullen expression.

"The trail ends here," she says, eyeing the snow banks, where her eye can still catch the shape that the compressed snow reveals: someone laid here. The weight feels right; her senses tingle because the smell is so familiar. Ginger could just squat and touch that spot where her sister laid, because it's the closest she's been to Brigitte in four years, but she also knows it'd be futile. She hasn't allowed herself to be overly sentimental of her case for a long time now.

Jason is a bit further away, squatted, eyeing the tracks left by the ambulance. He can also smell another beast here, and this one is male. He stands up with a cryptic look on his face, because he just can't decide whether this is a good thing or not. If this one can track her by scent, then they too should be able to, but on the other hand Jason has always disliked competition. He doesn't care about the survival of the fittest though – he only cares about his own and hers.

Ginger rakes her pixie hair nauseated by the mere thought of Brigitte sinking this low. She'd spent four years hiding and her sister still hadn't given into her new nature? Pathetic! But at the same time it is the Brigitte she knows all too well – always so strong in her conviction, never flinching even if there was danger involved.

"So…," she says, gaining Jason's undivided attention quickly. "Life looks hot with monkshood in the mix?"

Jason snorts and walks up to her, sliding his hand over her hip as he passes her by. "They'll think she's an addict," he comments, his dislike for their prey ever-so apparent in his voice. Yet he knows that within Brigitte lies the seed of the wolf – she is one of them despite all her efforts to erase that fact from existence.

"What tells you she isn't?" Ginger asks and her words breed a contemplative silence for the both of them. It is a good question. Brigitte knows that monkshood slows down the process, so by trying to evade the inevitable she must've gotten a craving for her personal poison of choice. Well that or she's killing herself over nothing.

"Good point," Jason answers after thinking it through. His mouth then curves to a smile of sorts. "I guess that would take her behind locked doors," he suggests, knowing all too well that you don't just walk out of those places – if you're not embracing the kill that is.

Ginger catches on his train of thought quickly, a satisfied ray of hope rekindling in her heart. "Oh, my poor sister tried to kill herself by overdosing and I was the last person she called!" She exclaims with theatrical intonation and giggles the slightest bit at her own performance. She's used the same line on many others that have stood on their path. Some have lived and some died, but she's always gotten the information she wanted about Brigitte from them.

Jason observes his green-eyed siren; feeling her satisfaction fills him with warmth. He is happy to make her happy any way she wants – even if it means chasing her sister. He takes her chin between his fingers, stroking her pale skin. She would have a doll's face, if it was a bit more round instead of appearing slightly famished. Ginger is skin and bones lately, unable to eat or think. The mania of finding her sister has really consumed her for the past six months, since signs of Brigitte started reappearing suddenly. Yet her beauty remains, albeit slightly ravaged.

"Stop staring, El Wray," she teases him, closing her fists around his leather jacket, so she can hold him still and just look at his face. Jason has a fierce stubble and his lips are cracked, but she only loves his touch more the rougher it gets. She hasn't cut his hair in awhile so it's naturally longer than usually: it covers his ears by now. Her eyes follow his fingers where the black snake tattoo comes to life as his finger moves to stroke her lips and she tries to bite it playfully.

"El Wray?" Jason chuckles at her words. "I'm not quite as spry."

"My memories don't lie," she whispers, pulling away from him as he laughs. As always Jason's laugh isn't powerful, merely amused, and it is almost privately quiet. She doesn't want anyone else to hear it, for it is a voice reserved only for her, used only to soothe her and love her.

This is their own private world where two wolves move as a pack and do everything together. Words are rarely needed for understanding what the other means and where their habits are wild and unexpected to outsiders to them they are as predictable as anything. The two predators are truly united beyond the significance of a mere ring or a spoken union: this is in their blood.

Ginger sighs when she realizes that it can't continue like this until the loose threads are taken care of. She can't continue like this until the haunting past has been put to rest. She can't sleep for Brigitte's image is in her mind every night, as scorching as the sun in its purest form. Every time Ginger chases her and leaps after her to catch her, she's sure she'll reach her this time, but every night Brigitte stabs the knife into her stomach, breaking the world in two and crushing Ginger's dreams. Ginger feels the tears on her skin, the sadness in the air and her sister's last embrace, until darkness comes and the void is death that she fears, for it is the only thing that can separate her from this perfect life.

"Hey," Jason calls to her upon noticing how Ginger is drifting into her thoughts again. It's a dark place where Ginger is weak and helpless and where he is just a boy, just flesh and hormones, to her. They both hate that place, but can't erase it from her mind. "Leave it," Jason begs, offering her his hand.

Ginger hesitates, but takes his hand eventually. She is moony and the approaching cycle has heightened her senses even more, making her more vulnerable to feelings and premonitions. Jason only has these sensations when her life is on the line and they are the kind that is quickly followed by rage. Ginger just can't hate Brigitte, so she is left in limbo.

"C'mon, let's go find the place where our little junkie friend was staying at, okay?" Jason suggests, shifting his tone of voice to something less serious. Ginger snorts at his choice of words but doesn't comment them. He is free to call Brigitte whatever he wants to, but if the comment had come from anyone else she would've ripped their lungs out. She and Brigitte are the same blood, no matter how Brigitte has tainted hers in the end.

Jason leads her away from the alley and to the motel Brigitte has been staying at. They both know the place the moment they see it and feel the array of scents invade their senses. Brigitte's is a unique scent that is hard to forget once you first recognize it. There is wolf in it the same way their scents have wolf in them. It's no wonder Brigitte has attracted other young canines on her tail – She is bitch in her prime breeding age after all.

Ginger spots the yellow tape the police used to seal the apartment and points it out to Jason. He replies with a mere nod. There is probably nothing of use in the apartment now, so it's useless to force an entry. It would probably be more useful to question the manager about 'her poor unfortunate junkie sister' that she is trying to find and bring back home.

"You try and find out more about this boy that wants in our family; I'll go and question the manager," Ginger suggests, finding Jason happy to oblige to her request. As usual he is more interested in the possible threat level than Brigitte's fate. It's not like she can blame him for feeling that way, after all Brigitte is the only person - excluding Jason himself - who's hurt her and lived.

They separate without goodbyes. Goodbyes are never said or thought. They'll be together again in awhile, or a longer while, but eventually they'll find one another – one way or the other. Voicing such profanity would be a curse and only end up breaking them apart for good, or so they believe. So Instead of bidding farewell, they might say "I care" or something short to strengthen their devotion, and this is only when the situation looks bad.

Jason turns and whistles at her. "Yo!" He calls, "I'm stricken."

Ginger smiles. She's too.

There is no getting away from this one, now is there? Brigitte can't help the gagging effect creeping up her throat as she looks at herself in the bathroom mirror. The signs are clear; the poison is away from her hands and the battle is a losing one. As long as she remains in this prison, there is no escape. The girls here disgust her by always adjusting to the situation by playing along and then succumbing to blackmail to get their fix and laughing at the management behind their back.

Tyler, he is the source of it. His face sickens her: his joy over being able to make everyone bounce back and forth anyway he orchestrates. He's made a pass at her too, appeared out of nowhere to humiliate her and make her beg. Brigitte is stronger than that, stronger than Ginger, who would've succumbed to all of this any minute, even fucked Tyler and then just discarded him like a used thing. Ginger would've just… Brigitte curses herself for thinking this way, for allowing Ginger room to continue living inside her.

It doesn't matter how Ginger would've fooled and mauled Tyler in this situation, all that matters is that she isn't Ginger and she'll find another way to get through this. Brigitte swallows as she takes the sharp glass piece in her hand and cuts her ear. The glass sinks into her skin easily; the pain is ear-numbing, seems to take forever and ever to cease, but she endures it and leaves the glass on the sink as she finishes cutting. She lets the skin piece fall from her hand and into the toilet, refusing to look at it. She closes her eyes, clenching her teeth together at the same time.

Fuck it hurts!

She walks to the bed and pulls the blanket over her shaking body. Hot tears clean her dirty cheeks and somehow she feels a bit cleaner now. The animal inside her has subsided for awhile, but it'll try to break through soon enough. And when it does, it'll call out to that other wolf. Its shadow haunts her night and day. For the last six months she's been trying to run from it with weak success. It always finds her and bystanders end up getting hurt in the process - People like Jeremy, who'd only wanted to help her.

"You're not cutting yourself, now are you, Brigitte?"

Brigitte flinches at the touch of icy fingers fidgeting at her cut earlobe and quickly sits up on her bed. She isn't alone anymore, to her great displease: Tyler eyes her curiously, one hand holding onto a metallic box, which quite obviously contains her monkshood. He's showing it off to her again in hopes of breaking her and getting her to perform sexual favours for him. Her cut ear hurts more after being violated by Tyler's unwanted touch. Truly, she can't think of a more disgusting person.

"I had a nosebleed," she lies, knowing very well she isn't that good at it. Then again with Tyler it doesn't matter: blunt facts are his only way of communicating with her. He isn't getting anywhere with flirt and seduction.

Tyler acknowledges her lie with a disillusioned glare. "Yeah?" Then his usual smirk makes its return, "Well, I guess you wouldn't want Alice to know about it?"

He pulls himself a chair and sits down, holding tightly onto his magic box. He is clearly finding new exciting ways to try and blackmail her. Brigitte is stronger than his usual prey though. She isn't an addict out of the thrill, but the rational need. That difference alone keeps her mind clear.

At least she can smile when she tells him off, "Not that desperate, Tyler."

He snorts at her apparent dislike. Still he kind of likes this one even with her being the difficult little bitch she is.

"C'mon Brigitte, why can't we be friends?" he asks, his voice suddenly sugary and sweet. Somehow this reminds her of Jason back when Ginger suddenly started showing interest in him: Tyler acts like he has leverage he knows how to use, but would rather not. Yet his new behaviour only disgusts her more and she finds herself shivering at the mere thought of touching him.

"You mean: why can't I just fuck you like the rest of them?" she asks, knowing very well that she is showing more defiance and risking exposure with it. Yet she holds her chin up high and pulls her knees to her chest, moving slightly away from him. She appears relaxed, yet she's ready to strike at him at any given time. The animal inside is ready – whether she likes it or not – and kind of likes this game.

"That too, but I suppose that's because you're afraid to lose it," he remarks happily as if he's in on a dirty secret between them. She's not quite in on it herself, so the only reaction Brigitte has is a shrug. "Huh?" she asks, truly oblivious to Tyler's remark.

Tyler exhibits annoyance ever so slightly before he leans closer to whisper, like he's spelling out facts to a child, "You're a virgin. I get that. I respect that. I'll be more than happy to show you the ropes."

His voice cuts her skin, makes it bleed and boil. Yeah, he's right, but it's not like she has had any time to even think about it. Survival has been more imminent, finding a cure more important. If she'd been given a normal chance at living through her teenage years, maybe Sam and her would've evolved into something bittersweet, but her chances had died in her home all those years ago, which had been long burned down by now. She had no need to justify her choices to him and he had no right to even speak to her about that.

"Hit a nerve, didn't I? Look maybe we'll take Beth-Ann with us. I think she kinda likes you. I think you'd get along just nicely."

His voice has dissolved into disharmony that interrupts her peaceful existence. Every word is a vile insult that only makes her want to cut him down all the more. Slowly the flashes are inching forward in her mind again, showing her his defiled body and her leaning above it, like a leering goddess. It's her desire, the desire of the animal. Brigitte can't wait here any longer. She needs the monkshood, even if she has to cheat it out of Tyler.

"Look I heard what Alice said about you maybe liking girls more and it's all cool with me. I might even be generous and just settle to watch you know."

He's really pushing her buttons now. Brigitte just wants to scream and hit him with something, but she knows it'll accomplish nothing. Once again she's left wondering what her goal is and what she can do to achieve it. Tyler's self-righteous smirk spreads like he's observing her train of thought and liking what he sees. She shivers and tries to keep the hairs from her neck from jumping straight up. It's like she has a snake underneath her skin and it just keeps on slithering around.

"Do you have condoms?" she asks, still feeling uneasy and violated.

He looks down pleased and pulls out a wrapped condom from his pocket. That sleazy assface, she thinks, wanting nothing more than to rip his face off. She can almost taste her blood in her mouth and bites at her lip to draw more of it out, so it'll cover the stench of him in her nostrils. The taste of blood only serves to further her disorientation however.

"Can we go now?" she forces the words out of her mouth, whishing she'll have enough strength to push him away once they're there. But if she should start a fight with him and push him around too hard, she really wouldn't feel too sorry for him either, seeing as he's forcing her hand.

Tyler stands up, offering her his hand and pulling her up from the bed. He draws her near so that he can look into her angry yet defeated eyes. "Shall I get Mary-Beth?" he asks, letting his gaze wander down her body. He can almost see through her cleavage and into the small valley between her small breasts that have been teasing his thoughts for awhile now. It'd sure be a shame, if she doesn't ride stick.

"No, let's go," she says, pulling away from him and his uncomfortable embrace. She hasn't allowed anyone to touch her, since Ginger. She hasn't had a loving embrace since she lost her sister to this disease. And now her first contact in years is with a man she despises wholly. Yet she can feel his touch burning her to the bone. The wolf has been lonely, craving for touch, hungering intimacy. She lives in conflict.

"Alright," he says softly, bringing his face to her ear and letting his lips brush against her ear. He almost lays his hand on her ass, but resists the temptation not to scare her away; as he knows she's a fragile bargain and will try to slither away from him if he progresses too fast. It's been quite awhile since his last virgin, but he quite likes it for a change. She's so cold, although she clearly responds to his touch. Yeah, he's sure she's just waiting to be unleashed.

They leave the room in unison, him dragging her like a lifeless doll behind him. He knows where her stale spirit originals from and knows just the antidote to fix her. Tyler's even quite he can eventually make her like their little trysts. She seems different from the rest of the junkies here, like she's really in trouble and in need of a saviour. Surely, he's not the type, but at least he can save her from the burden of virginity.

Tyler smirks at the thought, while they go down the stairs. He looks at her silhouette, suddenly catching a single tear landing on her cheek. A strange feeling overcomes him as he's walking her down the path of losing her innocence: Like Adam giving God his rib, he's giving in a sacrifice to sleep with Eve, only he thinks she's more of a Lillith than she knows. Tyler quickly shrugs off Sunday school teachings and the bad memories they bring: memories of touch and abuse. Memories of not having control, well, he'll surely have it with her and all of these damned bitches!

Once they're down, she turns to him and he pushes her over a bed of sandbags. Dirt fills the air as she hits them and a small whimper escapes her lips, but he's already leaned above her before she can object. Their faces come close and fear is visible in her eyes at last. Brigitte loses herself in the fear, unable to act or move. She merely stares into his eyes.

He laughs at loud at bit, the glint in his eyes again. He feels like a wolf, cornering his prey and finally getting to attack. The feeling is intoxicating, brings him more pleasure than any of his previous conquests – why? She's not even all that pretty. Perhaps it's her mind that he lusts, for there's a place there he can't enter, a place she'll escape to for the duration of their tryst. Yet this smells weirdly like some twisted fate.

He's already hard and pressed tightly against her stomach. He realizes to his pleasure that she isn't wearing a bra and that her nipples are hardening. Why indeed, if she's the saintly victim she makes herself out to be? No, she's been luring him ever since she came here, he knows this. She's been waiting for this.

Tyler kisses her neck almost violently, claiming her, even though this course of action is far from practical. His dull teeth dig into her skin and bruise, yet he kisses the bite away softly. She's still frozen, almost enjoying this, feeling her body respond to this madness. The thought, the sheer illogicality of the reaction freezes her still.

It's only when she sees the shadow standing far behind him that she awakens to reality. They're being watched and not by a human.

TBC


	14. Just Because You Feel Good

She's pulled him into motion that hasn't ended. He runs away from the terror and the roar that chases them. The adrenaline runs through his veins, but his brain cannot make sense out of anything. The girl however seems to have regained her senses and is guiding him to safety, through the labyrinth basement after the way back upstairs has already been blocked. They run across the dusty rooms towards the darkness where the fading electronic light has no reign. He hopes they'll be safe there. She knows they won't.

Brigitte lashes herself in her thoughts for being such a fool. She'd almost succumbed back there, almost let the beast out. That's what the other wolf had been waiting for – for her to make the killing blow with Tyler and then feast on his flesh together with it. When she refused it, it only grew angry again and came at them. Only her quick thinking allowed them to escape, but now they are faced with a desperate chase that she fears will end only in their fall.

As they run through a door, Tyler suddenly jerks his hand free of her grip and slams the door closed, barring it from this side to stop the beast from advancing. It won't hold it for long, she knows, but says nothing. Tyler will fight if he thinks there's hope. Tyler turns to her his face covered by a pattern of fresh blood. She rushes closer to wipe it off as quickly as possible, but he doesn't let her close.

"What the hell is happening!" He curses, wiping the blood on his shirt. Nausea is creeping up his throat and making him dizzy. He can see a gushing wound on Brigitte's shoulder, but she doesn't even seem to notice it as she stares at the door solemnly. Her messy hair is full of her own blood. Had she not attacked the creature, succeeding in making it retreat somewhat, they wouldn't have stood a chance. This gave the creature a chance to graze her shoulder though.

As she gives no reply, he moves closer and rips his shirt to bandage her wound. This time she doesn't let him close, knowing very well what her blood will do to him if any is mixed with his. Her eyes give him a clear warning not to approach, but to her surprise the blackmailing bastard actually can't sit by and watch another person suffer if it is in his power to prevent it. Clearly this is the reason he chose his profession to begin with, but became tainted along the way. Tyler moves closer and presses the torn shirt against her wound, making her yelp like a wounded animal. Tyler almost freezes at the sound, remembering a pet that slumbered to death in his arms a long time ago.

Their eyes meet: hers full of guilt and tears while he bandages her wound. She doesn't want to explain, because it's all in her head and she isn't becoming that malformed thing from her nightmares. She knows he can't possibly understand anything about her life for the past years. She was just a kid when this battle began, while he was probably already fucking desperate girls that needed his help, not his abuse.

The door is pounded against with terrible strength. The noise makes them both startle and look at the door that's keeping them safe. "We have to go now," Brigitte says, grabbing his forearm into her grip and pulling him back into motion. He doesn't protest her touch, or her leadership, even if his brain is working overtime to figure out how the pathetic junkie girl suddenly became someone he trusts his life with.

Brigitte notices that her nails have gotten sharper again and quickly releases him from her hold, resisting the urge to look at the door and see if the beast can really break through. Tyler is scanning their surroundings, trying to remember the layout of this maze, because it could save them. He remembers fucking one girl in the next room and watching two other handle each other in the corner here. If this weren't a life and death situation he probably would already finished with Brigitte too. And as strange as it is she really would've been different, now wouldn't she?

This is like her worst nightmare all over again: walking through the corridors of her own home with Sam and having Ginger take everything away from her. Had Brigitte not held onto hope and Ginger's secret for so long, she might've saved a lot of lives. She wouldn't have had to stab her own sister by accident in a struggle for survival. None of this would've happened, because she wouldn't have foolishly infected herself voluntarily.

The rage builds up inside her. It's what the beast inside feeds on: her fears, the disarray of her mind and especially her rage. It surfaces more easily when she's angry. She needs to stay level-headed, or otherwise Tyler will become her victim as well. It doesn't matter to her that he's an asshole; just that he's human and doesn't deserve this curse in his life. Yet there's something out here, something familiar. It spreads warmth in her body. It makes her want to run as fast as she can.

Tyler observes her quietly, recognizing the expressions she wears. This is nothing unusual to her. Brigitte – the little saint who was above his games – is quite familiar with this plight. The way she moves through the rooms, like an animal hunting for prey, it all adds up. He can see how dry her skin is on her muscular arms. How her ears don't quite look right and how her eyes shine every now and then. He hasn't noticed this before, because his eyes have been measuring completely different parts of her body, but now he is noticing it alright. Just what happened to her?

Brigitte grabs the front of his shirt and pulls him after her. She can sense the right path now; just feel that she's supposed to run this way. In the distance, she can hear the door breaking. A breath of fresh air is just around the corner. She can also hear Tyler's heart pounding beneath her fist. This makes her veins throb. Lust controls her and fills her, but she fights it. It's not for sex, like Ginger said, the ache is for carnage. It disguises itself to spread the disease, to continue the curse. Brigitte has fought it for four years now. Why is it getting so hard?

Then the exit is right upon them: there's a hole in the wall, a way to freedom. Tyler seems to perk up too, and he pushes her onwards, closing yet another door behind them. Brigitte is already climbing out, that scent driving her insane and demanding for her attention. She crawls a bit, but gets out through the wall eventually, falling on the freezing snow outside. It feels good on her freezing body; it eases the temptation, killing the approaching frenzy. Then she sees someone standing above her.

Tyler starts climbing out too, scared of that thing pounding against the door. Panic is beginning to clench his insides again, but suddenly he can see someone on the other side of the hole. A hand reaches out to him and he grabs it. The hand pulls him out into the cold snow. There's a young man standing in the snow next to Brigitte. Her face is white with shock and for once she doesn't seem to have a witty come back.

The young man smiles to him and pats his shoulder. "Don't worry, it's gonna be alright," he promises, moving past Tyler to stare into the depths of the hole they climbed out. All Tyler can do is stare at this stranger, while Brigitte begins to crawl backwards in a desperate attempt to escape. She seems genuinely disturbed. Tyler takes a few steps to reach her, and helps her up, but her attention is on the stranger alone.

With a bang the creature breaks down the door and rushes to the hole its prey has escaped through. It stops at the mouth of the hole though, staring deeply into the inhuman eyes that greet him in the other end. A challenging male is looking back at him, although still in human form, he can sense the power this one holds. This one is older than he is.

"Tyler," Brigitte grabs his shirt again, "We're not safe. We need to go," she tries to plead and warn him about the stranger with her eyes. He can see terror in them. She's not kidding. Then he looks at the stranger, who's still looking inside the hole. He doesn't seem that threatening, just a young guy with a reliable face and regular build. Tyler's taller and stronger than him.

"She's right," the stranger says, engaged in his staring contest with the beast. "You should run."

Brigitte doesn't wait; she pulls Tyler after her as she begins to run in the snow. She doesn't even feel the cold that's biting into her. All she can think of is: How the hell is Jason McCardy still alive and how did he find her?

Tyler's follows her like a man bewitched. He doesn't think of returning to the ward or getting his jacket and car keys. He feels it would be dangerous. Strangely he thinks she's the only reason he's still alive. He's starting to see the haunted girl in brand new light and it's quite flattering while being completely disturbing.

Brigitte pulls them through the snow, barely even feeling the cold around them. Tyler's hand feels warm in hers and fills her head with thoughts. The beast is never this much around with men, but it seems to respond to Tyler quite vividly. Without the wolf chasing her, she might've actually succumbed to this scumbag and her inner animal down in the cellar. These thoughts disgust her, but she pushes them down, looking for an exit with her eyes. And she finds a car parked nearby.

Brigitte yanks Tyler with renewed strength and points at the car. He spots it too and finds it unoccupied. He knows he should probably stop her and drag her back inside, but with that thing out there, he can't muster the courage. It's unbelievable that this little virgin slip of a girl is more courageous than he is. Then his eyes wander across her body and especially the way those hospital pants emphasize her ass. He can see why that thing is chasing her.

They reach the car and Brigitte tries to open the door, but it's closed off course. She curses aloud and jumps in fright when she hears a howl back from the direction they came from. For a second she wonders if it's Jason or the other male after her. She also realizes that Jason stayed behind to keep the beast at bay, so that she could escape. For what end though, she's afraid to find out. If he's anything like the fucktard in her memory, she's in for a tough escape.

Tyler circles the car and tries to open the driver's door but with no luck. He hits the door and curses, looking back at Brigitte then. "What the fuck is going on Brigitte?" he finally asks, distraught.

Brigitte makes a face at him, unwilling to say anything until they're somewhere safe. She needs him level-headed and dependable. If he starts to question why they're running, he'll seize being useful to her. Strangely she doesn't want him to seize being useful.

Brigitte takes a step back, swallows and breaks the glass with her elbow. The hit hurts like a bitch and gets her bleeding even more, but she blocks it out, withstanding the pain in order to survive. The ache is worse than she imagined though and a worried Tyler moves by her side and takes her hand. "Shit! Why did you have to do it without any tools!" he cries out, but gets rejected as Brigitte pulls back and cradles her bleeding arm.

He must not touch her blood; the risk of infection is too high. And yet Tyler tries to get her to give her bleeding hand to him. He looks genuinely concerned and it nearly melts her defences. Brigitte keeps her head though and pulls away. "Open the doors Tyler," she hisses between her teeth.

Realizing she isn't going to let him help, Tyler puts his hands up as a sign of surrender and proceeds to lean in through the broken window. He searches for keys, for a lock, for anything that might help them, but can't seem to find anything.

Brigitte stands next to him, feeling dizzy already. The blood loss is pretty bad, but she fears losing a whole other battle way more. They only have so much time until the winner will catch up and Brigitte can't guarantee Tyler's safety in that situation. It's strange that she worries about him at all, but she does. She doesn't need another Sam… another person dying because of her mistakes.

It's then that she feels a shift in the wind and the scents it carries. This one is very familiar. It fills her senses with horror. Brigitte turns in her steps and she's greeted by the sight she never thought she'd see again: her sister. Brigitte's eyes widen in horror and she gasps aloud, forgetting all about the pain in her hand. All she can do is look at Ginger, who's standing there with a dark gleam in her eyes.

Ginger smiles. "Hey sis," she says right before punching Brigitte out cold. With a thump Brigitte falls to the ground unconscious the dark figure of her sister looming above. The virgin snow is quickly coloured red by Brigitte's injury.

Then Ginger takes notice of Brigitte's companion: the male nurse she's been running with. Tyler has withdrawn from the car and he's looking at Ginger with fear in his eyes. Clearly he can tell Ginger isn't just a twenty something girl. Then his eyes drop to Brigitte on the ground and linger there.

"If you want to live, you'll take her and follow me," Ginger says calmly and watches how her voice affects the young man. She bears no ill will to him, but he isn't one of them… at least yet. Maybe he can make himself useful by tending to Brigitte's wounds.

"What do you want?" Tyler asks, horrified and shaking with cold. He never took himself for a trustworthy hero type, but for once he doesn't feel like leaving in the face of danger. Not after Brigitte saved him a moment earlier. Not while she's unconscious and wounded and about to be kidnapped by this vicious young woman.

"I want my sister," Ginger replies and begins to walk away. She motions him to follow with her hand and after taking a deep breath, Tyler kneels to take Brigitte in his arms and he follows her. Brigitte's arm is covered in blood and it spills all over Tyler too, but he ignores it and holds onto her with a worried brow. Then he looks at the woman he's following. Sisters? Somehow he just doesn't see the resemblance – unless this is some wicked take on Cinderella or something.

TBC


End file.
